Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/butlersstorybeinOOtrairich 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 


Have  you  2Ci\y  peanuis  tor  the  sivans?''''  he  says 


QCXS^^ — c"^*<:><:>d> 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

Being  the  Reflections,  Observations,  and  Experiences 
of  Mr.  Peter  Ridges,  of  Wapping-on-Velly,  Devon, 
Sometime  in  the  Service  of  Samuel  Carter,  Esquire, 
of  NewYoric.     Written   by   Himself  and   Edited 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

AND 

AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 
BY 

ARTHUR  TRAIN 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Copyright,  1909, 1912,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Printed  m  the  United  States  of  America 


^0 

MR.  AMOS 


M89172 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

THE  CARTER  FAMILY 1 

I  GET  IN  MR.  TOM'S  WAY 23 

ON  SERVANTS  IN  GENERAL 45 

GETTING  IN  ON ''THE  GROUND  FLOOR"          .         .  60 

ON  MONEY  AND  HAPPINESS 82 

I  TURN  DETECTIVE 103 

REAL  SWELLS  AND  OTHERS 126 

THE  DELUGE 145 

SAFE  AT  ANCHOR 167 

THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 177 

AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO        .         .         .222 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"Have  you  any  peanuts  ior  the  swans?"  he 

says Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

So  Mr.  Tom  grinds  his  teeth  and  shakes  his  fist  and 

yells 60 

My  eye !    But  I  nearly  dropped,  I  was  that  astonished  100 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 


THE  CARTER  FAMILY 


It  is  fifteen  years  and  over  since  Lord  Craven  called 
me  into  his  study  after  luncheon  and  says,  "  'Ears  have 
they  but  they  hear  not,  eyes  have  they  but  they  see 
not,  tongues  have  they  but  they  speak  not/  Do  you 
know  to  wot  that  refers.  Ridges?"  "No,  my  lord," 
says  I.  "To  men  servants,"  says  he,  "and  particular 
to  butlers,"  looking  at  me  very  hard.  "Very  good,  my 
lord,"  says  I.  "That  is  all,"  says  he.  "Thank  you, 
my  lord,"  says  I,  and  I  left  his  presence,  and  up  to 
this  time  have  neither  seen,  heard,  nor  spoke,  saving  of 
those  things  a  butler  should,  for  he  was  a  wise  man 
if  a  hard  drinker,  and  I  was  heartbroke  to  leave  his 
service  on  account  of  the  bankruptcy,  although  he  paid 
us  all  off  private  before  he  was  posted. 

That  was  how  I  came  to  leave  England  hoping  that 
I  might  run  across  him  again,  although  he  was  going 
into  the  cattle  business,  and  perhaps  enter  his  service. 

I 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

But  he  had  gone  to  Manitoba,  and  once  in  America  I 
soon  learned  that  only  in  New  York  could  I  hope  to 
secure  a  situation  such  as  I  was  used  to.  Yet  I  do  not 
believe  that  my  old  master's  injunction  would  lead 
him  to  include  writing  down  in  a  notebook  the  things 
one's  descendants  might  care  to  read,  and  indeed  the 
life  of  a  man  servant  is  so  silent  that  only  in  some  such 
way  can  he  retain  the  power  of  speech.  For  at  the  age 
of  forty-one  I  feel  less  at  ease  with  my  ekals  than  of 
yore  and  awkward  and  boorish.  This  perhaps  is  one 
of  the  disadvantages  of  a  life  in  service.  But  in  the 
silence  of  my  own  bedroom  I  can  take  my  pen  in 
hand  and  am  often  astonished  at  how  easy  I  can 
write. 

To  be  sure  I  have  read  a  great  deal,  but  I  fancy  it 
is  more  because  my  father  told  me  that  in  Devon  his 
grandfather  was  a  learned  man  who  could  both  read 
and  write  and  who  desired  to  send  his  son,  my  father's 
father,  to  a  publick  school,  being  a  freeholder,  but 
hard  times  coming  forced  him  to  sell  his  farm  and 
my  grandfather  entered  the  army  and  my  father  went 
into  service.  So  from  now  on  I  am  going  to  keep  a 
record  of  such  things  as  strike  my  fancy  or  impress 
me  as  thoughts  worth  preserving,  for  even  a  man  in 
service  may  profit  by  wot  he  sees  and  have  a  philosophy 
of  Hfe. 

Besides,  if  I  did  not  employ  my  time  in  some  such 
way  it  would  hang  heavy  on  my  hands,  for  I  have 


THE  CARTER  FAMILY 

made  but  few  friends  here,  and  even  at  The  Yellow- 
plush,  which  is  a  club  composed  of  the  hupper  men 
servants  from  the  most  exclusive  New  York  families, 
I  find  little  to  interest  me.  Instead  of  having  a  church- 
warden and  a  quiet  bottle  of  stout  over  a  hand  at 
whist  you  must  keep  pouring  down  whisky  straight 
and  bragging  about  how  many  railroads  your  master 
owns  and  how  many  actresses  he  knows. 

Moreover,  the  talk  is  not  all  it  should  be  by  any 
manner  of  means,  and  while  such  things  piay  be 
discussed  by  gentlemen  over  their  wine  after  dinner 
and  allowance  made,  yet  a  self-respecting  man  servant 
should  be  more  particular  as  to  his  manner  of  speech. 

And  I  have  Mr.  Amos's  authority  for  this  very  thing, 
for  one  night  after  a  dinner  at  our  house  when  the 
gentlemen  had  told  some  stories  that  beat  anything  I 
ever  heard  in  the  stables,  which  is  bad  enough  God 
knows,  so  that  I  was  quite  hot  under  the  hair  and  James 
the  second  man  almost  fell  through  the  transom  listen- 
ing on  the  stepladder,  Mr.  Amos  called  me  over  very 
serious  and  says : 

"Ridges,  do  you  know  any  stories  like  that  ?"  he  says. 

"Well,  sir,"  says  I,  "no  offense  meant,  but  I  don't 
sir,"  I  says. 

"Fm  glad  to  hear  it,"  says  he,  very  solemn.  "If  you 
were  guilty  of  making  use  of  such  language  I  could  not 
bring  myself  to  come  here,"  he  says.  "Remember, 
Ridges,  we  gentlemen  pay  our  servants  to  he  respect- 

3 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

able."  Then  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  went  after  the 
others,  and  I  really  don't  know  now  exactly  wot  he 
meant  by  it  at  that,  for  when  he  is  most  sadlike  you 
will  see  a  twinkle  in  the  comer  of  his  mouth,  and 
when  he  is  laughing  the  most  merrily  he  says  the  wisest 
and  sharpest  things. 

After  Lord  Craven  I  like  him  best  of  all  the  gentle- 
men I  have  ever  met  and  I  would  like  to  enter  his 
service  were  it  not  for  the  fact  that  he  lives  in  lodgings 
and  cannot  afford  to  keep  a  man.  Besides,  although 
he  does  not  know  it,  there  is  another  bond  between 
us  which  is  that  we  are  both  men  of  literary  tastes,  for 
he  writes  essays  and  books  on  philosophy,  full  of  gloom 
and  about  the  evil  in  the  world,  and  people  say  that  he 
is  a  pessymist  and  how  it  is  too  bad  for  one  so  young 
to  be  so  cynical,  although  he  is  the  gayest  person  who 
comes  here  and  is  always  going  out  to  dinner  and 
leading  cotillions  and  bothered  to  death  by  the  ladies, 
so  that  Mrs.  Carter  is  anxious  to  have  him  at  the 
house. 

Wot  is  more,  I  think  Mr.  Amos  really  likes  her  and 
he  never  says  a  word  except  in  kindness  about  any  of 
them  saving  Mr.  Tom.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carter  is  both  a 
little  afraid  of  him  because  he  knows  everybody  even 
more  than  they  do  and  they  are  forever  asking  him 
about  the  big  houses  he  goes  to,  but  he  always  puts 
them  orf  and  will  not  tell  them  anything.  The  strangest 
thing  of  all  is,  although  he  goes  with  all  the  swellest 

4 


THE  CARTER  FAMILY 

people,  he  says  and  does  wotever  he  likes,  and  although 
he  has  the  grandest  manners,  like  a  duke  when  he 
wishes,  he  generally  is  playing  jokes  and  talking  like 
a  anarchist.  That  is  one  of  the  queer  things  about 
these  New  York  people.  If  anybody  does  not  act  and 
talk  just  so,  doing  and  saying  exactly  the  same  thing 
as  everybody  else,  they  think  he  must  be  vulgar,  whereas 
Mr.  Amos  says  it  is  vulgar  to  be  common,  that  it  is 
common  to  be  ordinary  and  that  it  is  ordinary  to  be 
like  everybody  else.  But  the  minute  they  get  the  idea 
that  in  spite  of  being  different  anybody  is  clever  and 
just  talks  that  way  to  be  interesting,  he  can  say  and  do 
wot  he  pleases. 

Now  Mr.  Amos's  father  was  a  wealthy  cotton  man 
whose  partner  took  a  lot  of  their  customers'  money 
and  then  shot  hisself.  Well,  the  old  gentleman, 
although  it  was  not  necessary  in  law,  sold  everything 
he  had  and  paid  over  all  the  money  so  that  he  had 
nothing  hisself  and  then  he  went  back  on  a  salary  so 
he  could  send  Mr.  Amos  to  college.  Everybody  thought 
it  was  a  fine  thing  to  do,  as  it  was,  if  I  do  say  it  myself, 
and  Mr.  Amos  is  the  same  kind,  for  now  that  his 
father  is  too  old  to  work  he  spends  every  afternoon 
with  him  and  supports  him  by  his  writing.  I  have 
often  seen  the  old  gentleman  here  at  dinner,  and  Miss 
Patricia  calls  him  "Uncle  Mo."  The  way  they  got 
acquainted  was  that  Mr.  Carter  was  one  of  the  credi- 
tors, and  when  Mr.  Amos's  father  wanted  to  pay  him 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

back  he  wouldn't  take  the  money,  but  the  old  gentle- 
man made  him  do  it. 

Mr.  Amos  is  the  greatest  fellow  for  his  joke  you 
ever  see  and  I  shall  never  forget  the  first  time  I  saw 
him.  It  was  at  our  country  place  The  Beeches  (there 
is  only  one  little  one,  but  Mrs.  Carter  liked  the  name) 
and  there  is  a  long  drive  which  cost  a  lot  of  money 
leading  up  to  the  house  and  all  lined  with  busts  of 
Roman  Emperors  and  their  mistresses.  In  the  middle 
is  a  sort  of  marble  pool  with  swans  swimming  in  it 
and  rows  of  little  hedges  alongside  of  it.  The  swans 
look  very  fine  and  genteel.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  we 
were  having  a  house  party  and  up  comes  a  motor  with 
a  lot  of  young  ladies  and  Mr.  Amos.  I  and  the  four 
footmen  had  come  out,  as  is  proper,  and  was  standing 
on  the  steps  to  receive  the  guests.  So  out  jumps  Mr. 
Amos — I  didn't  know  him  then — very  swell  looking 
and  walks  right  up  to  me  and  says  perfectly  serious: 

"Have  you  any  peanuts  for  the  swans f"  he  says. 
Well,  James  he  burst  right  out  laughing,  so  I  says : 
"I  beg  pardon,  sir,  but  we  don't  give  peanuts  to  the 
swans.  They  have  patent  *Swanfood,'  "  I  says. 

"Poor  swans!"  he  says.  "They  should  have  pea- 
nuts," and  he  went  right  on  in  with  the  young  ladies. 
I  couldn't  make  him  out.  Monday  morning  when  they 
went  away,  about  eight  gentlemen  left  together  in  a 
motor.  Mr.  Amos  came  out  last  and  gave  me  a  five- 
dollar  note.    The  four  footmen  was  all  lined  up  on 

6 


THE  CARTER  FAMILY 

the  steps  to  see  them  off.  As  the  motor  started  along 
Mr.  Amos  leans  out  and  waves  his  hand  at  us  and 
calls  out: 

**Good-by,  boys!"  and  that  was  the  last  I  saw  of 
him  for  a  long  time. 

Our  house  in  New  York  is  on  Fifth  Avenue  and 
one  of  the  finest  in  the  city,  having  cost,  I  once  heard 
Mr.  Carter  say,  all  told,  counting  furniture,  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds,  but  the  place  in  the 
country  where  the  family  spend  most  of  the  time  cost 
all  of  three  hundred  thousand,  and,  as  Mrs.  Carter 
says,  is  the  very  latest  thing  in  Louis  Sixteenth.  To 
be  entirely  honest  I  have  never  seen  anything  like  it  in 
England,  the  principal  difference  being  in  the  bath- 
rooms, which  there  are  none  if  very  few  upon  the  other 
side.  In  our  New  York  house  each  bedroom,  even  the 
smallest,  has  a  bathroom  of  its  own,  and  on  the  fourth 
floor  it  is  a  fact  that  the  bathrooms  is  bigger  than 
the  bedrooms.  There  are  twenty  bedrooms  in  the  Fifth 
Avenue  house  and  there  are  twenty-one  bathrooms, 
which  takes  the  entire  time  of  two  men  to  keep  clean, 
but  we  take  the  same  men  to  the  country  where  there 
are  thirty- four  bathrooms  and  they  work  longer  hours. 
The  parlor  maid,  Evelyn  Raymond,  who  wants  to  be 
a  actress  and  is  very  witty,  calls  them  "swobbers"  from 
the  nautical  term  "to  swob."  But  at  Craven  Hall  it 
was  a  long  way  to  a  bath.  On  the  whole  as  long  as  I 
am  not  obliged  to  clean  them  they  seem  worth  having, 

7 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

although  the  gentlemen  and  ladies  do  not  look  to  be 
any  cleaner  than  those  I  was  used  to  in  England. 

I  remember  a  green  second  man  I  had  once  who 
had  never  seen  a  bathroom  and  who  used  to  go  into 
one  on  the  guest  room  floor  on  his  afternoons  out  and 
read.  He  said  it  made  him  feel  rich  to  have  marble 
all  around  and  that  he  would  never  have  marble  on  all 
sides  again  until  he  was  put  in  a  receiving  tomb,  but 
Mrs.  Carter  found  him  in  there  one  day  and  said  she 
would  not  mind  his  using  it  for  its  proper  purposes, 
which  would  have  been  a  good  thing,  but  that  if  he 
wanted  to  read  he  had  better  go  to  the  Lenox  Library. 
After  that  I  found  an  excuse  to  give  him  the  sack,  for 
I  thought  he  did  not  know  his  place. 

There  is  certainly  an  extraordinary  number  of  serv- 
ants employed  in  our  house  considering  the  high  wages 
they  get.  We  keep  thirty-two  in  the  country  and  nine- 
teen in  town. 

IN  THE   COUNTRY  IN  THE  CITY 

One  butler  One  butler 

One  housekeeper  One  housekeeper 

One  steward  One  steward 

One  chef  One  chef 

Two  assistant  chefs  One  assistant 

Three  kitchen  maids  Two  kitchen  maids 

Four  laundresses  Two  laundresses 

Four  footmen  Two  footmen 
One  pantry  maid 

Two  parlor  maids  One  parlor  maid 

Three  valets  One  valet 


THE  CARTER  FAMILY 

Two  ladies'  maids  Two  ladies'  maids 

Four  chambermaids  Two  chambermaids 

Two  house  men  ("The  swob-  Two  house  men  ("The  swob- 

bers")  bers"  again) 
One  baker 

You  may  imagine  wot  a  crowd  it  is  that  sits  down 
at  the  servants'  table  for  meals  and  it  would  be  orful 
if  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  most  of  the  men  is 
irregular,  dropping  on  one  after  the  other,  and  one  of 
the  kitchen  maids  is  really  just  a  servants'  waitress 
and  kept  busy  all  the  time.  Of  course  the  housekeeper 
has  her  meals  in  her  own  room,  and  the  steward 
gets  his  out,  and  the  chefs  have  a  table  of  their  own 
as  in  all  well-regulated  households.  Speaking  by  the 
book  I  am  supposed  to  eat  in  the  servants'  dining  room 
but  I  find  it  irksome  to  do  so  and  hardly  ever  go  there, 
getting  my  meals  in  the  pantry  after  the  family.  This 
does  not  count  the  chauffeurs,  the  coachman  and 
grooms,  and  the  men  who  work  on  the  place,  but  these 
do  not  eat  in  the  house.  I  should  also  mention  "Aunty 
Morgan,"  Master  Willie's  old  nurse,  who  has  nothing 
to  do  and  just  lives  at  the  house  because  there  is  nothing 
else  to  do  with  her. 

I  must  confess  I  miss  it  like  it  was  in  dear  old  Eng- 
land when  all  the  hupper  servants  had  dinner  in  the 
housekeeper's  room  with  me  at  the  head  of  the  table  and 
all  the  others  in  order  of  rank.  I  can  recall  some  parties 
which  was  almost  as  distangay  as  those  at  my  master's 
board,  for  the  maids  always  wore  low  neck  and  short 

9 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

sleeves  otherwise  known  as  day  collettey  which  is  the 
invariable  custom,  and  some  of  them  looked  like  the 
finest  ladies.  On  such  occasions  our  manners  was 
quite  as  good  and  more  formal  than  hupstairs,  for  I 
have  had  (when  we  had  a  large  house  party)  a  Prin- 
cess's maid  on  my  right  and  a  Duchess's  maid  on  my 
left,  and  so  on  down  to  the  salt,  all  in  the  loveliest 
clothes  imaginable.  Once  when  His  Royal  Highness 
was  with  us  I  had  Mr.  Hunter,  His  Royal  Highness's 
Third  Groom  of  the  Chambers  sitting  beside  me.  It 
was  a  wonderful  experience,  for  he  was  the  most  culti- 
vated and  distinguished  gentleman  I  ever  met. 

And  this  reminds  me  that  I  have  not  told  about  the 
family,  which  I  should  have  done  long  ago.  There  are 
six  in  all,  but  only  five  in  the  house  for  Mr.  Tom  has 
his  rooms  outside,  for  which  God  be  praised.  First 
there  is  Mr.  Carter,  who  was  a  stock-broker  and  is  now 
wot  they  call  over  here  a  "promoter."  He  was  in  cotton, 
and  then  he  was  in  oil  (which  sounds  like  a  specimen), 
and  now  he  is  in  cotton-oil.  You  can  never  tell  what 
he  will  be  in  next.  Mr.  Amos  says  a  lot  of  the  oil  is 
water  (which  is  a  joke),  but  Mr.  Carter  does  not 
mind  and  says  in  private  that  you  can  fool  some  of 
people  all  the  time,  but  I  fancy  he  does  hisself  a  injus- 
tice because  I  have  heard  that  the  oil  he  was  in  was 
standard  oil  and  if  so  of  course  it  could  not  have  any 
water  in  it  and  must  be  all  right.  Anyway  the  Bible 
says  oil  maketh  a  cheerful  countenance  and  Mr.  Carter 

lO 


THE  CARTER  FAMILY 

has  got  the  cheerfullest  one  I  ever  see,  quite  red  and 
very  round,  with  little  twinkling  blue  eyes.  He  is  not 
very  aristocratic  looking,  but  he  is  more  so  than  a  lot 
of  baronets  I  have  seen,  some  of  which  are  a  rum  lot. 

And  that  brings  me  to  Mrs.  Carter,  my  mistress, 
of  whom  I  have  already  spoke  by  minuendo,  and  per- 
haps that  is  the  best  way  to  describe  her  because  you 
would  not  find  out  wot  a  really  kind-hearted  woman 
she  is  to  look  at  her  and  see  her  carrying  on  in  society. 
She  is  quite  stout,  not  to  say  fat,  with  a  enormous  bust 
and  you  would  laugh  to  see  the  houseman  carrying  her 
body  downstairs  for  the  seamstress  to  try  a  dress  on. 
She  is  more  like  my  Aunt  Jane  who  lives  in  Wopping- 
on-Velly  in  Devon  than  anybody  else  I  know,  although 
I  do  not  think  her  axcent  is  as  pure  as  Aunt  Jane's. 
Now  Mrs.  Carter  she  came  from  Piqua,  Ohier,  where 
her  father  was  a  chemist  or,  as  they  say  here,  a  apothe- 
cary, and  when  she  was  first  married  to  Mr.  Carter  he 
was  a  very  small  clerk  in  cotton  and  they  was  both 
by  way  of  being  in  very  umble  circumstances. 

Then  one  day  a  friend  of  Mr.  Carter's  who  was 
likewise  a  clerk  invented  some  way  of  pressing  to- 
gether the  bales  so  they  did  not  take  up  so  much  room 
or  something  in  regard  to  the  strings  you  tie  it  with,  and 
Mr.  Carter  gave  him  fifteen  dollars  for  harf  of  the  idea, 
and  presently  they  was  granted  a  monopoly  on  it  and 
before  long  sold  it  for  ten  million  dollars.  That  was 
twenty  years  ago  when  Mrs.  Carter  was  only  thirty- 

II 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

five  and  Mr.  Tom  was  fifteen  years  old  and  Master 
Willie  had  not  been  born  yet,  and  the  family  all  lived 
in  Brooklyn  with  Mr.  Carter's  mother.  Now  you  would 
not  expect  Mrs.  Carter  to  act  as  unto  the  manner  born 
under  the  circumstances  and  it  is  really  astonishing 
how  well  she  does  and  it  would  be  hard  for  most 
people  to  tell  she  was  not  a  lady  but  only  a  woman, 
for  it  is  not  in  the  things  she  does  but  in  those  she 
doesn't  or  is  afraid  to  that  you  can  see  the  mortar  and 
pestle.  She  has  improved  something  wonderful  in  the 
ten  years  in  which  I  have  been  in  her  service,  in  part 
owing  to  my  careful  tootilage — a,  influence  potent  if 
unseen.  So  far  as  her  appearance  is  concerned  her 
maid  Eliza  has  left  nothing  to  be  desired,  and  she 
looks  quite  a  stunner  in  her  Louis  XVI  costume  made 
by  Callow,  so  that  if  you  didn't  know  her  you  would 
really  be  afraid  of  her  as  some  of  the  servants  are. 
Then  there  is  Mr.  Tom,  but  perhaps  the  less  said 
of  him  the  better  for  he  is  a  rotter  if  there  ever  was 
one  and  a  bad  lot  altogether,  for  he  was  just  at  the 
wrong  age  when  his  father  got  his  money  and  it 
started  him  orf  bad.  He  is  entirely  different  from 
any  of  the  others  and  is  quite  tall  and  very  dark 
with  hollows  under  his  eyes  as  if  he  didn't  sleep,  and 
a  waxy  sort  of  look  in  his  face  but  not  bad  looking  at 
that.  He  only  comes  home  to  the  biggest  dinners  and 
to  ask  his  father  for  money,  and  sometimes  the  lan- 
guage he  uses  is  horrible  to  think  of,  but  why  I  dislike 

12 


THE  CARTER  FAMILY 

him  most  is  the  way  he  makes  fun  of  his  mother 
right  before  the  servants,  whereas  he  is  not  fit  to  sit 
at  the  same  table  with  her. 

Miss  Harriet  Carter  is  not  a  bit  like  him,  although 
she  is  quite  disagreeable  enough  to  her  parents.  She 
is  about  thirty-two  and  has  been  "out"  a  good  deal  over 
ten  years,  but  when  she  was  introduced  to  society  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Carter's  position  was  not  as  good  as  it  is 
now  and  Miss  Harriet  has  never  caught  up.  Of  course 
she  goes  out  a  lot  but  I  fancy  the  people  who  accept 
her  father  and  mother  are  inclined  to  go  a  little  shy 
on  her,  for  she  is  a  big  girl  like  a  horse  and  has  never 
got  over  the  way  of  talking  she  learned  at  the  publick 
school.  All  of  which  makes  a  anomylous  situation, 
viz. :  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carter  know  all  the  swellest  people 
a  little  and  exchange  entertainments  with  them  and 
have  them  at  The  Beeches  and  to  go  cruising  on  the 
steam  yacht,  but  Mr.  Tom  and  Miss  Harriet  do  not 
know  their  sons  and  daughters,  except  at  a  distance. 

The  difference  between  them  lies  right  here,  that 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carter,  while  they  put  on  more  or  less 
side,  are  not  ashamed  of  where  they  come  from  or  how 
they  got  their  money  and  simply  want  to  be  like  other 
rich  people  and  to  have  a  good  time,  but  Mr.  Tom  and 
Miss  Harriet  are  ashamed  of  their  father  and  mother, 
which  is  unfilial  and  betokens  a  mean  nature.  Still 
you  cannot  blame  Miss  Harriet  so  much  because  she 
has  been  a  sort  of  odd  stick  all  her  life  and  now  she 

13 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

has  her  own  circle  of  friends  who  are  nearly  fashion- 
able but  not  quite  and  who  do  ever3l:hing  the  swell 
people  do  only  much  more  so.  Miss  Harriet  is  great 
on  afternoon  tea  at  Sherry's  and  Bridge  Parties  at  the 
Waldorf,  and  you  can  bet  harf  a  crown  she'll  have  a 
box  at  every  kind  of  charitable  musical  show  that  is 
going. 

Now  this  is  wot  I  mean.  We  had  a  small  dinner  of 
twenty-eight  at  our  house  one  evening  and  a  certain 
lady  was  there  from  Chicago  whose  husband  had  been 
in  oil  with  Mr.  Carter.  The  lady  was  more  like  wot 
Mrs.  Carter  had  been  fifteen  years  ago  and  as  she 
was  quite  rich  she  thought  it  would  be  a  good  time 
to  make  an  impression  on  New  York.  Now  it  hap- 
pened that  it  was  really  Miss  Harriet's  dinner  party 
instead  of  her  mother's  and  most  of  her  swellest  friends 
was  present  and  it  was  a  unfortunate  time  for  the 
Chicago  lady  to  select.    So  she  says  very  loud: 

"Oh,  we  had  such  a  charming  time  in  Paris — per- 
fectly lovely,"  she  says,  "and  we  had  a  most  interest- 
ing experience,"  she  says,  "we  saw  Carolus  Duran 
ascend  several  times  in  his  air  ship." 

Everybody  looked  a  bit  astonished  and  then  one 
of  the  gentlemen  put  his  hand  over  his  mouth  and 
sort  of  choked  and  Miss  Harriet  got  very  red  and 
says: 

"Santos  Dumont,  you  mean,  don't  you?'*  she  says. 
And  the  Chicago  lady  looked  green  and  says : 

14 


THE  CARTER  FAMILY 

"Yes,  of  course,  Santos  Dumont.  How  stupid  of 
me !"  she  says. 

Later  on  when  she  had  recovered  herself  she  got 
a-talking  about  her  house  on  the  Boulevard  by  the 
Chicago  Lake  and  says : 

"You  know  my  husband  and  I  just  went  to  Eurrup 
and  left  the  architect  carte  blanche  to  do  everything, 
even  to  buying  the  tidies,"  she  says.  "We  told  him  that 
wot  we  wanted  was  for  him  to  make  us,  regardless  of 
expense,  a  beautiful  home !"  she  says. 

Well,  there  was  such  a  stillness  that  the  lady  thought 
she  had  created  just  the  impression  she  wanted  and 
made  amends  for  Carolus  Duran,  until  Miss  Harriet 
says  very  icy: 

"How  perfectly  delightful  to  be  able  to  afford  such 
a  lugsury  as  to  have  your  architect  buy  your  tidies !" 

Then  they  all  began  to  talk  very  fast  about  how 
the  new  basso  who  played  the  Devil  at  the  Opera  didn't 
wear  anything  but  spangles. 

Arfter  everybody  had  gone  and  James  and  I  was 
taking  the  flowers  out  of  the  drawring-room  to  send 
to  the  Children's  Hospital  Miss  Harriet  snapped  at 
her  mother. 

"How  could  you  invite  such  a  vulgar  wc«nan  to 
the  house  to  meet  my  friends!  I'm  humiliated!"  she 
says. 

Mrs.  Carter  just  laughed. 

"I  thought  it  was  rather  funny!"  she  says.    "Poor 

IS 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

Fanny!"  she  says.  "She  is  one  of  the  best  women 
in  the  world." 

But  Miss  Harriet  was  hot  clear  through  and  she 
says,  /' 

"I  suppose  she  is  the  kind  you  was  brought  up  with," 
she  says. 

And  Mrs.  Carter's  lip  sort  of  trembled  and  she 
didn't  say  anything  for  a  minute  and  then  she  says: 

*T  think  you  must  be  tired,  dearie.  Let's  go  to  bed." 

That  is  the  contradiction  in  people,  for  the  very 
next  day  Mrs.  Carter  would  hardly  speak  civil  to  the 
man  who  came  to  show  her  a  sketch  for  the  new 
mantelpiece. 

When  you  come  down  to  it  there  is  no  particular 
difference  that  I  can  see  between  my  mistress  and  her 
eldest  daughter  (I  do  not  speak  now  of  Miss  Patricia) 
and  the  women  who  work  for  them.  In  fact  there  is 
no  one  of  them  who  is  so  gentle  and  well  favored  as 
Eliza  Thomas,  my  mistress's  maid.  And  not  putting 
it  down  by  way  of  a  jest,  did  not  James  the  second 
man  when  he  was  cleaning  the  parlor  window  overhear 
a  cabby  say  to  my  mistress,  Mrs.  Carter,  not  being 
able  to  tell  she  was  not  a  servant  on  account  of  her 
mackintosh    (for  they  are  all  made  alike)  : 

"Hello,  Maggie,  are  you  out  promenayding  ?"  Which 
is  wot  Lord  Craven  used  to  call  a  argumentum  ad  homi- 
num. 

Now  there  were  plenty  of  Carters  on  the  Devon 

i6 


THE  CARTER  FAMILY 

side  when  I  was  a  boy  and  I  have  heard  my  father 
say  that  one  by  the  name  of  Carter  kept  pigs  for  his 
grandfather.  For  what  is  a  Carter?  He  is  one  who 
carts,  just  as  a  Smith  is  a  smith,  and  a  Wheelwright 
is  or  was  a  wheelwright.  And  if  it  is  so  in  England  it 
is  a  great  deal  more  so  in  America. 

But  when  my  mistress  goes  out  she  would  have  you 
believe  that  she  was  royalty  at  the  very  least  and  so 
would  Mrs.  Padden  and  Mrs.  Bostock  and  the  other 
ladies  who  wear  coronets  in  their  hair  which  is  con- 
trary to  etiquette.  Which  is  not  saying  that  I  do  not 
like  Mrs.  Carter,  for  I  know  very  well  that  she  values 
my  good  opinion  and  frequent  inquires  my  advice  upon 
matters  of  procedure.  In  fact  sometimes  I  have  thought 
that  when  we  were  together  she  had  less  savoir  faire 
than  when  in  company.  At  any  rate  she  does  not  make 
so  much  effort,  and  effort  is  quite  necessary  for  her. 
But  I  may  say  on  passong  that  Mrs.  Carter's  manners 
in  public  is  more  formal  and  her  manners  in  private 
less  formal  than  any  lady  I  have  worked  for,  not  to  say 
at  times  almost  vulgar.  That  is  the  chief  reason  that 
I  care  less  for  life  in  America,  for  Mrs.  Carter  always 
treats  me  as  an  ekal  on  ordinary  occasions  and  like 
a  sweep  in  company  and  I  am  neither  one  nor  the 
other. 

In  England  I  have  seen  my  Lord  Craven  jump  out 
of  his  brougham  and  slap  a  shabby  looking  gentleman 
on  the  back  right  by  the  Serpentine  and  drag  him 

17 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

home  to  dinner  with  a  fine  company  and  make  mucH 
of  him  because  he  had  written  a  book  about  old  Roman 
ruins,  and  my  lord  always  had  about  him  a  group 
of  gentlemen  and  ladies  who  had  no  money,  but  who 
were  either  play  actors,  or  sportsmen,  or  poets,  or 
painters,  and  with  them  the  best  folk  in  England,  and 
all  of  them  seemed  at  home  with  one  another  and  often 
I  could  not  properly  serve  the  courses  at  dinner  so 
great  was  the  laughter  and  goings  on.  But  here,  al- 
though Mrs.  Carter  goes  to  all  the  great  balls  and 
banquets  and  has  her  box  at  the  opera,  to  say 
nothing  of  her  country  place  and  the  great  steam  yacht 
that  cost  a  hundred  thousand  pound,  neither  she  nor 
her  guests  seem  to  take  much  pleasure  in  them,  and  all 
who  comes  to  her  house  are  rich  ladies  exactly  like 
herself,  and  formal  and  careful  always  to  appear  just 
so  for  fear  it  might  be  supposed  they  did  not  know 
wot  was  wot.  There  has  hardly  been  a  single  person 
distinguished  in  art  or  music  or  letters  (saving  Mr. 
Amos)  sit  at  our  table,  and  when  Mrs.  Carter  gives 
a  swell  musical  I  have  seen  great  singers  that  had  the 
run  of  Lord  Craven's  house  and  have  often  handed  me 
a  tenner  in  the  old  days  and  who  my  Lord  was  proud 
to  call  his  friends,  shown  to  a  side  room  and  when 
sent  for  come  out  and  sing  their  songs  and  go  away 
unspoken  to  by  anybody.  But  that  was  when  I  first 
entered  their   service. 

Once  when  Moseer  Ritz  the  great  tenor  had  sung 

i8 


THE  CARTER  FAMILY 

for  us  and  was  going  down  the  front  staircase  he 
stopped  and  patted  me   on   the   shoulder   and   says : 

"Well,  my  chere  old  Peter,  how  are  you?"  And  it 
brought  back  to  me  all  the  good  times  in  Park  Lane 
and  the  tears  almost  came  into  my  eyes  so  that  I 
could  hardly  speak,  but  we  had  a  few  words  and  when 
he  had  gone  out  I  turned  around  and  there  was  Mr. 
Carter,  and  he  says,  surprised-like : 

"Ridges,  do  you  know  Ritz?" 

And  I  says,  *T  know  Mr.  Ritz,  sir,  because  he  was 
an  old  friend  of  my  master  Lord  Craven." 

And  Mr.  Carter  says  under  his  breath,  "The  deuce 
he  was !" 

And  the  next  winter  when  they  had  him  again  he 
was  asked  to  dinner  first. 

At  the  dinner  Mrs.  Carter  introduced  him  to  a  fine 
lady  in  the  dra wring-room  and  says  in  a  sort  of  apolo- 
getic way,  "Let  me  present  Moseer  Ritz,  the  great 
singer,  you  know."  Then  to  Mrs.  Carter's  surprise,  for 
you  could  see  it,  the  lady  grabs  Mr.  Ritz's  hand  and 
he  bends  over  and  kisses  hers  and  they  begin  to  jabber 
French  at  a  great  rate  and  the  lady  turns  to  Mrs. 
Carter  and  says  with  a  smile,  "Moseer  Ritz  and  I  were 
old  friends  in  England." 

After  that  Mr.  Carter  sometimes  asked  me  wot  other 
friends  of  Lord  Craven's  was  of  that  sort,  and  some  of 
them  were  asked  to  sing  and  play  for  us  and  always 
invited  to  dine  and  introduced  to  everybody.    But  of 

19 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

course  it  did  not  happen  all  at  once  as  I  write  it,  but 
came  about  very  slow  and  gradual  so  as  hardly  to  be 
noticed. 

But  his  incident  occurred  nearly  ten  years  ago 
and  to-day  you  should  see  how  these  singing  people 
put  on  side.  Some  of  them  is  quite  ordinary  but  they 
act  as  if  there  was  no  one  else  to  be  considered.  It 
is  nine  years  since  Mile.  Peche  sang  at  our  house.  After 
the  guests  had  all  assembled  she  came  in  by  herself 
and  sang  her  songs  while  all  the  audience  kept  right 
on  talking  and  paying  no  attention  to  her,  and  at  the 
end  of  the  programme  Mr.  Carter  walked  up  to  her 
before  everybody  and  handed  her  a  cheque,  face  out, 
so  you  could  see  a  thousand  dollars  written  on  it,  and 
she  turned  quite  white  and  her  eyes  glared  like  auto- 
mobile lamps  and  she  tore  it  all  up  in  Httle  fine  pieces 
and  put  it  on  the  palm  of  her  hand  and  blew  them 
straight  at  him.  He  must  have  felt  orful.  After  the 
swaree  .Yj2iS  over  he  said  he  reckoned  he  had  made  a 
break  and  Mrs.  Carter  said  she  guessed  he  had  too  and 
that  he  should  have  knowed  better.  Mr.  Tom  wasn't 
there  or  he  would  have  been  profane.  But  that  was 
before  the  time  Moseer  Ritz  spoke  to  me  on  the  stairs. 

There  was  another  time  after  that  I  recall  at  The 
Beeches  when  Mr.  Carter  telegraphed  to  an  agent  in 
New  York  to  send  him  out  the  best  music  to  be  had 
and  not  to  spare  expense.  He  was  going  to  have  a 
big  dinner  and  he  wanted  dinner  music  but  he  didn't 

20 


THE  CARTER  FAMILY 

say  so  in  his  telegram,  and  after  the  first  course  had 
been  served  four  little  men  in  long  hair  drove  up 
in  the  public  hack  from  the  station  and  got  out  very 
angry  because  no  carriage  had  been  sent  to  meet  them. 
Mr.  Carter  had  instructed  me  to  put  the  musicians 
in  the  pantry,  and  tell  them  play  there  with  the  door 
part  open,  so  I  tried  to  pacify  them  and  put  them  in. 
Then  I  told  Mr.  Carter  the  musicians  had  arrived,  and 
he  spoke  up  quite  loud  so  everybody  could  hear  and 
says: 

"So  the  beggars  have  come  at  last,  have  they?  Well 
tell  them  to  hit  it  up  and  give  us  a  tune  !'* 

But  when  the  quartette  saw  the  pantry  and  the  dinner 
being  served  in  it  and  realized  how  they  was  expected 
to  sit  there  and  play  they  took  on  dreadful  and  the 
littlest  one  shook  his  fist  in  my  face  and  talked  like  a 
watchman's  rattle  for  almost  five  minutes.  Then  they 
all  turned  around  and  walked  out  of  the  house. 

Well,  Mr.  Carter  was  pretty  hot  about  it  then,  but 
he  was  hotter  next  day  when  he  got  a  bill  for  one 
thousand  dollars  for  the  services  of  the  Kreisel  Quar- 
tette, the  celebrated  concert  players.  He  had  asked  for 
the  best  and  he  had  got  them.  After  that  he  and  Mrs. 
Carter  began  to  see  how  important  these  musical  people 
think  they  are,  and  treated  them  according. 

But  I  am  a  long  way  orf  from  Miss  Patricia  and 
Master  Willie  who  are  the  ones  that  I  care  for  most 
of  all  and  saving  for  whom  I  should  have  left  the 

21 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

Carters  long  ago,  for  they  are  as  different  from  all 
the  rest  as  black  is  from  white,  which  is,  I  fancy,  be- 
cause they  was  born  too  late  to  feel  the  bad  effects  of 
no  money  at  all  and  then  a  sudden  abundance  of  it,  and 
yet  have  had  all  the  refining  influence  that  money  can 
bring,  for  Miss  Patricia  is  a  thoroughbred  if  ever  there 
was  one  and  a  more  beautiful  and  wittier  lady  than  any 
I  ever  knew  in  England.  Dear  Miss  Patricia!  How 
often  I  have  wished  I  could  tell  her  in  other  ways  than 
simple  service  how  I  worship  the  ground  she  walks 
on  and  I  would  rather  hear  her  say  "Thank  you  Ridges" 
than  get  a  twenty  dollar  note  from  Mr.  Carter.  God 
bless  you.  Miss  Patricia  (I  can  say  it  here  in  my  book 
and  no  one  will  find  it  out)  and  may  your  smile  be 
as  happy  and  your  hair  as  golden  in  the  sunshine  and 
your  laughter  as  clear  and  merry  until  Peter  Ridges 
is  too  old  to  know  to  the  contrary ! 


22 


II 

I    GET    IN    MR.    TOM^S    WAY 

When  I  read  over  wot  I  wrote  the  last  time  I  took 
my  pen  in  hand  it  seemed  all  mixed  up  and  sort  of 
wandering,  for  I  had  intended  to  write  mostly  about 
Miss  Patricia  and  I  found  I  had  not  wrote  about  her 
at  all  but  instead  a  lot  about  the  rest  of  the  family 
and  Mr.  Amos  and  the  musical  people.  I  shall  ask  Mr. 
Amos  how  to  write  so  that  one  sticks  to  one  thing 
and  puts  it  in  the  right  place,  for  he  is  a  wonderful 
writer,  or  at  least  so  everybody  says,  only  he  always 
makes  fun  of  everything,  even  wot  he  writes  hisself, 
so  you  can  never  tell.  Another  thing  I  notice  is  that 
although  I  write  very  easy  it  does  not  sound  as  well 
when  I  read  it  over  aloud  as  when  I  speak  ordinary. 
But  the  reason  for  that  is  because  I  have  learned  how 
to  say  everything  I  do  say  exactly  right,  which  is  for 
the  most  part  only  "Very  good,  madam,  or  sir,"  or 
"Thank  you,  madam,  or  sir,"  or  "The  carriage  is  here, 
or  dinner  is  served,"  et  cetyra,  et  cetyra,  so  that  per- 
haps it  is  just  as  well  not  to  put  on  too  much  literary 
pretence,  but  to  go  ahead  with  my  story,  in  the  hope 
that  if  it  is  inside  of  one  it  will  come  out  somehow. 

23 


THE  BUTLER^S  STORY 

Now  something  has  occurred  that  I  should  put  down 
here  at  once  and  yet  I  do  not  know  whether  to  do  so 
before  I  have  described  Miss  Patricia  and  Master 
Willie  who  is  at  school  and  back  for  the  holidays,  but 
as  it  concerns  the  household  I  will  postpone  them  for  a 
moment  and  do  so.  It  is  about  Eliza  Thomas,  for  night 
before  last  when  the  bell  rang,  as  I  was  going  down 
the  corridor  I  came  upon  her  and  Mr.  Tom  standing 
behind  the  portieres  very  close  together,  and  Eliza  had 
something  shiny  hanging  from  her  hand.  When  Mr. 
Tom  saw  me  he  turned  around  very  sudden  and  walked 
away,  but  Eliza  she  seemed  sort  of  frightened  and  not 
to  know  wot  to  do  and  just  stood  there  sort  of  pale, 
and  I  saw  it  looked  like  a  pearl  necklace,  and  when  I 
had  passed  she  ran  upstairs  as  fast  as  she  could. 

Well,  Mr.  Tom  said  nothing  to  me,  and  indeed  we 
has  very  little  to  say  to  each  other  at  any  time,  and  I 
went  down  to  the  pantry  feeling  very  depressed,  for 
Eliza  is  one  of  the  best  girls  I  have  ever  seen  in  service. 
In  the  first  place  she  is  so  gentle  that  all  the  servants 
are  fond  of  her  and  in  the  second  she  is  so  conscientious 
that  Mrs.  Carter  could  not  live  without  her.  Moreover 
she  is  as  pretty  as  any  lady  I  have  ever  seen  except 
Miss  Patricia,  and  speaks  as  soft  and  correct  and  her 
behavior  is  always  modest  and  quiet.  Her  father  is  an 
electrician  over  in  Astoria  and  she  has  a  brother  who 
belongs  to  the  Twelfth  Regiment  and  I  suppose  that  is 
how  she  came  to  believe  all  the  things  Mr.  Tom  must 

24 


I  GET  IN  MR.  TOM'S  WAY 

have  told  her.  O,  you,  Mr.  Tom !  Some  time  I  would 
like  to  pound  your  beastly  head !  You  "Tom!"  There  I 
have  said  it!  Tom!  Just  "Tom!"  You  are  not  harf 
the  man  that  I  am  and  you  know  it  1 

I  never  had  any  interest  in  Eliza  myself — ^not  in 
the  least — but  being  as  I  am  head  of  the  house  I  felt  it 
my  duty  to  speak  to  her  that  evening  on  the  stairs. 
I  was  as  nice  as  I  could  be  and  by  way  of  conversation 
asked  her  about  her  brother.  She  did  not  seem  to 
want  to  talk,  so  I  says : 

"I  hope  you  won't  be  offended,  Eliza,  but  where 
did  you  get  that  necklace  you  had  this  afternoon  ?" 

Well,  you  should  have  seen  how  flaming  her  cheeks 
got !  I  never  seen  her  like  it  before.  And  her  eyes  just 
snapped  as  she  says: 

*Wot  business  is  that  of  yours,  Peter  Ridges?" 

I  hadn't  meant  to  hurt  her  feelings  so  I  says : 

"Don't  be  angry  with  me,  Eliza,  but  if  Mr.  Tom 
gave  it  to  you  I  should  be  sorry,"  I  says. 

"And  why?  I  should  like  to  know?"  she  says,  keep- 
ing up  the  same  dignified  tone. 

"Because  when  gentlemen  give  working-girls  jew- 
elry," I  says,  "They  don't  mean  them  any  good,"  I 
says. 

Then  Eliza  took  out  her  handkerchief  and  begin  to 
cry  and  I  felt  like  a  brute, 

"I  don't  know  wot  right  you  have  to  speak  to  me 
like  that,"  she  says.  "I  think  it  very  crool  of  you." 

25 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

'Tm  sorry,  Eliza/'  I  says,  "But  I  was  only  speaking 
for  your  own  good.  I  am  afraid  of  that  Mr.  Tom/* 
I  says. 

Then  she  got  angry  again. 

"Perhaps  you  don't  know  him,"  she  says. 

"Nor  you  neither,  I  fancy,"  I  says. 

She  started  to  go  hupstairs. 

"How  long  has  this  been  going  on  ?"  I  says,  stepping 
in  front  of  her. 

"Kindly  let  me  go  by,"  she  says  with  the  tears  in 
her  eyes.    "Or  I'll  complain  to  Mr.  Carter." 

"O,  zvill  you?"  I  says.  "It  would  be  a  good  thing 
if  you  did." 

Then  she  made  a  sudden  rush  and  got  by  me,  and 
although  I  called  "Eliza"  after  her  several  times  she 
did  not  turn  round  and  I  did  not  see  her  again  that 
night,  but  I  was  very  depressed  about  it  because  I  dis- 
trusted Mr.  Tom  and  wondered  wot  her  father  and 
mother  would  say  if  they  knew  he  was  making  up  to 
her  in  that  way,  and  then  the  extraordinary  thing  hap- 
pened, for  as  I  was  going  up  the  stairs  I  found  a  little 
folded  scrap  of  paper  like  a  soldier's  cap  and  when  I 
opened  it  wot  should  it  be  but  a  note  in  Mr.  Tom's 
handwriting.  It  had  no  beginning  and  no  ending,  but 
it  just  said: 

"Will  be  at  S.W.  comer  of  Fifth  Avenue  to-morrow 
night  at  eight  thirty." 

Well,  therfe  was  a  pretty  how  do  you  do!   My  first 

26 


I  GET  IN  MR.  TOM'S  WAY 

impulse  was  to  tell  Mr.  Carter,  and  then  to  tell  Eliza's 
father  or  her  brother,  but  by  the  time  I  had  got  back 
to  the  pantry  I  had  decided  not  to  do  either,  because 
if  I  did  the  first  Mr.  Tom  would  lie  about  it  and  Eliza 
would  get  packed  off  and  she  would  fall  into  his  clutches, 
and  if  I  told  her  father  it  would  make  trouble  for  her 
at  home.  So  I  says  to  myself,  * 'Ridges,  this  is  a  piece 
of  business  for  you  to  manage  yourself." 

The  note  I  had  found  on  the  stairs  bothered  me  quite 
a  bit  wot  to  do  with  it.  Of  course,  it  belonged  to  Eliza 
but  if  I  should  give  it  back  to  her  it  would  be  a  warning 
that  I  had  read  it  and  knew  wot  they  was  planning, 
which  would  spoil  any  chance  I  might  otherwise  have 
to  defeat  Mr.  Tom.  Moreover,  she  would  never  guess 
I  had  it  and  would  not  dare  to  make  much  of  a  fuss 
looking  for  it,  and  of  course  she  had  read  it  before 
she  lost  it,  so  I  burned  it  up.  Harf  past  eight  to- 
morrow night!  O  you  "TomT*  You  will  have  to 
countin  Mr.  Peter  Ridges  afore  you  can  harm  a  hair 
of  that  poor  innocent  girl's  head ! 

Well,  I  had  some  doubt  as  to  whether  I  could  get  orf 
the  next  evening  but,  as  luck  would  have  it,  the  whole 
family  went  to  the  opera  and  left  the  dinner  table  a 
little  arfter  eight.  Miss  Harriet  always  kicks  and  says 
it  is  an  "evidence  of  ill  breeding"  to  change  your  hours 
to  go  to  the  opera,  because  no  one  who  is  anybody 
ever  gets  there  before  nine  o'clock,  but  Mr.  Carter  says 
he  will  be  darned  if  he  is  going  to  pay  a  hundred  thou- 

27 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

sand  dollars  for  a  box  and  not  see  the  whole  show. 
Besides  he  likes  to  see  the  other  people  come  in  and  so 
does  Mrs.  Carter,  and  they  always  leave  early  to  go  to 
bed.  Well,  I  almost  wanted  to  call  up  Mr.  Amos  and 
tell  him  about  Eliza,  but  I  decided  that  there  was  enough 
people  interested  in  the  poor  girl  already. 

So  as  soon  as  I  had  passed  the  cigars  I  slipped 
hupstairs  and  put  on  my  Inverness  coat  that  used  to 
be  Lord  Craven's,  and  my  top  hat  which  belonged  to 
the  same,  and  went  out  the  front  door,  and  wot  should 
I  see  just  at  the  same  moment  but  Eliza  step  out  of 
the  area  all  fixed  up  in  her  prettiest  clothes  and  the 
feather  boa  Miss  Patricia  gave  her  on  Christmas,  too 
pretty  for  anything,  and  trip  ofiF  as  smart  as  you  please 
for  the  corner.  I  followed  just  behind  so  as  not  to  be 
seen  and  lit  a  cigar  so  as  to  appear  like  a  gentleman, 
and  when  she  got  to  the  corner  a  handsome  wheeled 
out  of  a  side  street  and  there  was  Mr.  Tom,  and  Eliza 
sprang  in  and  they  started  orf  and  I  nearly  bit  my 
cigar  in  two.  Well  I  had  not  planned  out  just  wot  I 
was  going  to  do  and  for  a  moment  I  was  dazed  but 
just  then  a  cabby  pulled  up  alongside  and  says  "Keb, 
sir?"  alluring,  and  I  forgot  all  about  the  money  and 
says  "FoUer  that  cab,"  and  in  I  got.  Well,  the  cabby 
had  followed  other  cabs  before  I  fancy  for  he  whipped 
up  his  old  horse  and  away  we  went  lickety  cut.  They 
went  down  Fifth  Avenue  at  a  great  rate,  and  turned 
into  Thirty-fourth  Street,  stopped  at  the  Herald  Square 

28 


I  GET  IN  MR.  TOM'S  WAY 

Theatre  and  went  in.  That  sort  of  balked  me  because 
I  had  no  ticket  and  I  knew  they  would  stay  there  all 
the  evening,  so  without  thinking  I  says  to  the  cabby 
quite  unconscious, 

"Wot  are  we  going  to  do  now?" 

*T  guess  we'll  go  in  arfter  em,"  he  says. 

Well,  somehow  I  had  took  quite  a  fancy  to  that 
cabby  and  I  says, 

"Right !"  I  says,  "in  we  go.  But  first  how  much  do 
I  owe  you?"  I  says. 

So  he  said  it  was  a  dollar  but  added  as  how  he  hoped 
he  might  have  the  pleasure  of  taking  me  home  arfter  the 
theatre.     Then  he  says, 

"If  you  are  particular  interested  in  any  party  in 
that  other  handsome,"  he  says,  "the  driver  is  an  old 
pal  of  mine  and  I  can  fix  it  up,"  he  says. 

Then  the  scales  fell  from  my  eyes  and  I  told  him 
how  he  was  a  good  fellow  and  I  would  take  him  at 
his  word,  and  with  that  he  whistled  very  loud  and  sharp 
and  his  friend  turned  around  and  we  all  drove  up  the 
street. 

I  gave  the  other  cabby  a  dollar  and  he  was  most 
genial  and  told  us  how  he  had  an  appointment  to  take 
the  same  parties  to  Rector's  arfter  the  theatre  was  over 
at  eleven  o'clock.  They  was  sure  to  stay  until  it  was 
over  because  it  was  a  "hot  show,"  he  says.  So  I  and  my 
cabby  arranged  for  him  to  wear  a  white  paper  in  the 
back  of  his  hat-band  so  we  could  see  him  in  the  crowd, 

29 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

and  for  my  man  to  stick  right  behind  him  all  the  time. 
Well,  I  began  to  feel  like  Sherlock  Holmes  and  spend- 
ing the  two  dollars  and  another  dollar  I  had  give  to 
my  cabby  extra  had  made  me  feel  reckless,  so  I  bought 
an  entrance  ticket  and  went  in. 

Well,  I  had  to  stand  up,  and  when  I  had  got  used 
to  looking  so  far  as  the  stage  I  really  was  ashamed  to  be 
there  it  was  that  immodest.  My  eye!  I  never  had 
supposed  that  such  things  could  go  on  with  the  police 
hunting  for  crime,  and  right  on  Broadway  too.  Then 
I  looked  for  Eliza  and  Mr.  Tom  and  couldn't  see  them, 
but  finally  I  saw  Eliza's  feather  boa  in  the  back  of  a 
box  I  had  thought  was  empty  and  I  grew  hot  and 
then  cold  and  wanted  to  rush  in  and  take  her  away 
and  would  have  done  it  at  that  only  for  making  a 
scene. 

That  show  was  something  scandalous.  How  any 
decent  woman  could  have  sat  through  it  is  more  than 
I  can  understand.  After  a  while  two  actors  wot  pre- 
tended they  was  artists  came  out  in  tam  o'  shanters 
and  corduroy  suits  and  sang  a  silly  song  and  arranged 
a  lot  of  big  easels  in  the  back  of  the  stage  in  a  row. 
Then  a  lot  of  big  handsome  girls  in  kimonos  came  in 
and  each  one  got  behind  a  easel  and  took  orf  her  kimono 
and  threw  it  away.  Well,  it  made  you  think  wot  was 
going  to  happen  next!  All  you  could  see  was  their 
heads  above  and  their  bare  feet  below  and  the  canvas  on 
the  easel  in  between.   Then  just  as  I  had  about  made 

30 


I  GET  IN  MR.  TOM'S  WAY 

up  my  mind  to  rush  into  the  box  and  drag  out  Eliza, 
the  easels  began  to  fold  up  together  and  you  could  see 
their  necks  and  arms  and  their  legs  as  far  up  as  their 
knees,  and  the  stillness  grew  intense.  I  just  held  my 
breath.  Just  as  the  canvas  was  going  to  fold  up  entire 
the  girls  give  a  little  screech  and  jumped  down  off  wot 
they  had  been  standing  on  back  of  the  easels  and  let 
their  skirts  (which  they  had  been  holding  up  all  the 
time)  fall  down!  My  eye!  I  almost  had  palpitation 
of  the  heart.  Then  a  big  roar  went  up  all  over  and  a 
drunken  man  in  the  gallery  said : 

"W-o-o-ow!"  very  loud,  and  everybody  laughed 
again. 

But  I  felt  sick  to  think  anybody  would  bring  a 
decent  girl  to  see  a  show  like  that,  for  its  entire  object 
was  to  see  how  far  you  could  go.  And  then  as  I  was 
debating  whether  or  not  to  stay  and  lose  any  more  of 
my  self  respect,  all  of  a  sudden  there  was  a  little  com- 
notion  on  one  of  the  sides  of  the  theatre  and  I  saw 
my  dear  Miss  Patricia  walking  up  the  aisle  looking 
straight  in  front  of  her  and  her  skirts  gathered  up  as 
if  she  was  afraid  they  would  touch  some  of  those 
people  who  was  laughing,  and  right  behind  her  hur- 
ried a  young  man  I  had  often  see  at  our  house,  named 
Mr.  Gaynes,  with  lots  of  money  and  a  pink  face  and  a 
high  collar,  and  he  was  trying  to  say  something  to  her 
and  she  wouldn't  listen.    She  walked  right  out  into 

31 


THE  BUTLER^S  STORY 

the  foyer  all  alone  and  Mr.  Gaynes  rushed  ahead  o£ 
her  and  says: 

"Miss  Carter!  Miss  Carter,  dan*t  go  home!  Please 
come  back." 

And  she  turned  her  eyes  on  him  very  cold  and  says : 

"Had  you  ever  seen  this  before  you  asked  me  to 
join  your  box  party?" 

And  he  hesitated  and  turned  redder  than  ever,  and 
didn't  say  anything. 

Then  she  left  him  to  look  for  a  cab  and  there  was 
Mr.  Tom's  and  she  started  to  get  in. 

"Beg  pardon,  miss,  but  I'm  engaged,"  says  the  cabby. 

Just  then  young  Mr.  Gaynes  came  up  and  says : 

"I  hope  you'll  at  least  let  me  see  you  home,"  he  says 
very  much  embarrassed. 

"You  need  not  take  the  trouble,"  she  replies.  "I 
should  feel  quite  as  safe  by  myself." 

Well,  with  that  he  steps  back  and  I  took  the  occasion 
to  nod  to  the  driver  that  it  was  all  right  and  that  he 
should  let  her  get  in,  which  he  opened  the  wings  of 
the  handsome  and  did.  At  the  same  moment  I  slipped 
into  my  own  handsome  just  behind  and  when  she  had 
given  the  address  we  started  orf.  Never  in  my  life 
have  I  felt  greater  pleasure  than  I  did  then  when 
without  her  knowing  of  it  I  watched  over  my  dear  Miss 
Patricia  like  a  hen  taking  her  chicken  under  her  wing, 
and  I  felt  so  happy  about  it  that  I  chuckled  to  myself 
all  the  way  home  wondering  wot  the  little  lady  would 

32 


I  GET  IN  MR.  TOM'S  WAY 

say  if  she  knew  I  was  there  and  feeling  so  proud  of 
her  that  she  would  not  stay  in  that  place  and  was  brave 
enough  to  walk  right  out  alone  by  herself. 

When  we  got  nearly  home  I  stopped  my  handsome 
and  got  out  and  walked  near  enough  to  see  that  she 
got  up  the  front  steps  in  safety  and  then  we  hurried 
back  to  the  theatre.  This  time  I  did  not  go  in  but 
waited  outside  and  watched  the  people  walking  up  and 
down  Broadway,  which  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
things  I  ever  did,  for  I  had  never  before  done  so  dressed 
in  gentleman's  raiment  and  feeling  that  I  was  a  part 
of  it.  Moreover  I  learned  a  good  deal  about  some  of 
the  young  men  who  come  to  our  house  which  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  wot  I  am  writing,  and  a  lot  of  things 
I  should  be  ashamed  to  write  down  as  well,  but  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  the  nice  people  who  were  there  having 
a  good  time  without  any  particular  money  seemed  to 
be  enjoying  it  more  than  the  ones  that  had. 

I  was  standing  by  an  aberdasher's  show  case  smoking 
my  second  cigar  when  up  came  a  young  gentleman  in 
very  swell  clothes  and  says, 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  will  you  oblige  me  with 

a  light?"   And  who  should  it  be  but  Mr.  Amos?    So 

I  did  not  say  anything,  but  holds  out  my  weed  and 

while  he  was  puffin  he  looks  in  my  face  and  exclaims : 

"Well  of  all  things !  If  it  isn't  Ridges." 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  says,  "Asking  your  indulgence,  it  is." 

And  he  laughs  a  little  laugh  all  to  himself,  and  says: 

33 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

"Are  you  gathering  sociological  data  or  pondering 
on  the  ephemeral  quality  of  human  happiness?" 

*T  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  I  says,  "Would  you  mind 
saying  that   again?" 

"Are  you  slumming,  Ridges,  or  taking  the  air?" 
he  asks. 

Well,  I  was  all  taken  aback  so  I  hardly  knew  wot 
to  say  and  I  guess  I  just  stammered  and  he  took  me 
by  the  arm  and  says : 

"We  are  both  alone,"  he  says.  "I  have  often  wanted 
a  quiet  chat  with  you,"  he  says.  "Wot  is  the  matter 
with  a  cigar  and  a  bottle  of  ale  ?" 

Now  nothing  would  have  given  me  greater  pleasure 
at  any  other  time,  but  I  had  business  on  hand,  so  I 
said  : 

"Mr.  Amos,  I'm  very  sorry,  sir,  but  I  can't  go 
with  you.  I  have  an  engagement  of  importance,"  I 
says.    "I  hope  you  will  forgive  me." 

And  with  that  Mr.  Amos  draws  back  and  laughs 
again  and  says: 

"The  fault  is  mine.  For  give  me  for  disturbing 
your  incognito,"  he  says,  wotever  that  is,  and  he  walks 
on  and  I  could  have  cursed  because  I  couldn't  go  along 
with  him  he  looked  so  clean  and  straight  and  handsome. 
But  in  a  minute  more  the  people  began  to  come  out  of 
the  theatre  and  I  thought  no  more  of  him,  being  en- 
grossed in  watching  for  Eliza  and  Mr.  Tom.  Almost 
everybody  had  left  and  I  had  almost  concluded  they 

34 


I  GET  IN  MR.  TOM'S  WAY 

had  gone  out  some  other  way  when  they  appeared  very 
sudden  and  jumped  into  their  handsome.  I  did  not 
think  Eliza  looked  quite  so  jolly  as  when  she  had  gone 
in  but  I  only  saw  her  for  a  moment.  We  gave  them  a 
good  start,  because  we  knew  where  they  was  going 
and  then  started  along  arfter  them.  The  streets  was 
full  of  people  going  home  from  the  theatres  or  out  to 
supper  and  it  all  looked  tremendously  elegant  and  fine 
and  I  tried  to  pretend  to  myself  I  was  a  swell  going 
to  keep  a  rondayvous  with  some  beautiful  and  talented 
person. 

Then  the  next  thing  I  knew  I  was  being  helped  out 
of  the  handsome  by  a  nigger  in  uniform  about  seven 
feet  high  who  gave  me  a  ticket  to  use  when  I  came 
out.  Across  the  sidewalk  I  could  see  Eliza  and  Mr. 
Tom  pushing  their  way  through  the  door  in  an  orful 
jam  of  red- faced  men  in  tall  hats  and  ladies  all  covered 
with  pearls  and  diamonds  and  I  sort  of  drifted  along 
arfter  them  on  a  smell  of  violets  and  sachet  powder 
until  I  found  a  valet  helping  me  orf  with  my  coat 
and  giving  me  another  check. 

By  that  time  I  had  got  the  shakes  for  fear  some  of 
Mrs.  Carter's  friends  might  be  there  to  recognize  me 
and  I  was  afraid  to  go  in,  but  I  got  caught  in  the  crowd 
and  pushed  right  up  against  a  beautiful  woman  that 
looked  like  a  actress,  and  when  I  stepped  on  her  foot 
quite  accidental  she  gave  me  the  sweetest  smile.  Well, 
the  crush  was  worse  than  one  of  Mrs.  Carter's  Mon- 

35 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

days  and  I  began  to  see  it  was  no  place  for  a  poor 
man  let  alone  a  common  servant,  but  I  was  in  for  it 
and  no  way  to  push  out,  and  the  next  thing  I  knew 
I  was  inside  the  dining  room  in  front  of  the  crowd 
right  in  full  sight  of  everybody. 

Now  I  have  worked  in  dining-rooms  all  my  life  and, 
might  almost  say,  was  born  at  a  side  table,  but  I  must 
confess  I  felt  entirely  day  trow.  If  I  had  only  had  a 
tray  in  my  hands  or  even  a  bottle  it  would  have  been 
different,  but  there  I  was  without  anything  trying  to 
stand  as  if  I  enjoyed  it  instead  of  like  a  automato  as 
usual.  That  was  the  hardest  part,  for  my  heels  would 
slide  together  try  as  hard  as  I  would. 

The  glare  and  noise  almost  blinded  and  deafened  me 
and  it  was  that  hot  my  forehead  was  all  of  a  sweat. 
Every  second  I  expected  some  one  at  the  tables  to  tell 
me  to  fetch  the  pate  or  ices  and  I  was  on  the  point  of 
diving  back  into  the  crowd  to  hide  myself  when  the 
butler  steps  up  to  me  and  bows  quite  deferential. 

"One?"  says  he,  holding  up  a  finger. 

I  give  him  the  haughtiest  nod  I  could  and  he  led 
the  way  right  down  the  centre  of  the  room  and  pulls 
out  a  chair  for  me  at  a  table  in  front  of  the  band. 
Well,  no  one  pointed  or  even  looked  at  me  that  I  could 
see  except  two  ladies  who  were  alone  at  the  next  table 
and  I  flattered  myself  I  was  undiscovered,  and  arfter 
the  head  butler  had  given  a  few  more  people  seats  he 
came  right  back  and  excused  hisself  for  going  orf  that 

3^ 


I  GET  IN  MR.  TOM'S  WAY 

way  and  took  out  a  little  pad  and  seemed  real  anxious 
about  my  getting  wot  I  wanted  to  eat. 

"Wot  shall  it  be  to-night,  sir?"  he  says  quite  solici- 
tous, holding  his  pencil  in  suspense.  "The  potage  d'es- 
pagnole  is  particular  good,  and  how  would  a  trifle  of 
pompano  with  sauce  diah  do  to  follow?" 

Now  I  had  et  no  supper,  owing  to  leaving  home 
in  such  a  hurry  of  excitement,  and  I  would  have  given 
a  good  deal  to  say  to  him,  "Bring  me  a  pork  pie  and 
a  bottle  of  ale,"  but  I  knew  he  would  have  dropped 
dead  if  I  had,  so  I  says  very  careless  like, 

"O,  anything  tasty,  but  let  it  be  hot  and  enough 
of  it." 

"To  be  sure,"  he  says,  feeling  encouraged,  "I  sug- 
gest a  bit  of  venison  steak  with  currant  jelly  and  sauce 
a  la  Signora  with  vegetables. 

"Very  good,"  I  says,  keeping  my  eye  out  for  Eliza 
and  Mr.  Tom. 

"And  then  a  canard  roti/'  he  adds,  "with  sauce 
bigarde,  a  bit  of  salad,  a  sweet,  Cammembert  and  cof- 
fee, and  a  bottle  of  sparkling  Chambertin,"  he  says, 
scribbling  it  all  down  on  his  pad. 

Then  before  I  had  time  to  say  yes  or  no  he  shouts 
"garsoon"  and  jams  the  paper  into  the  hand  of  a  red- 
headed second  man  and  disappears.  They  both  dis- 
appeared. 

So  I  began  to  feel  more  at  home  and  as  if  I  had 
a  right  to  be  there  and  to  look  around.     It  really  made 

37 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

me  dizzy  to  see  all  the  hats  and  feathers  and  bare 
necks  and  hear  the  laughter  and  popping  of  corks  and 
smell  the  rice  powder  and  roses  and  cologne  and  feel 
the  warmth  of  the  air.  It  was  like  a  big  hotbed  of 
flowers  all  in  motion.  But  I  noticed  that  while  they 
was  much  more  at  ease  they  did  not  look  as  if  they 
was  enjoying  themselves  any  more  than  the  people  at 
Mrs.  Carter's  dinner  parties,  and  most  of  the  men  were 
either  very  fat  and  red  or  very  pale  and  hollow  eyed 
and  all  the  ladies  looked  tired  and  did  not  seem  to  be 
interested  in  wot  was  said  but  spent  their  time  looking 
at  one  another. 

Then  another  second  man  appeared  with  a  silver 
bucket  and  a  red-headed  bottle  sticking  up  in  it  and 
he  whipped  it  out  and  waved  it  around  in  front  of  me 
and  before  I  could  say  Jack  Robinson  he  had  the  cork 
out  and  was  filling  my  glass.  I  took  a  long  drink  and 
begun  to  feel  quite  at  ease. 

Presently  I  located  Eliza  and  Mr.  Tom  way  orf  in 
a  corner  by  theirselves  and  he  seemed  to  be  talking 
very  earnest  to  her  and  she  to  be  turning  away  her 
head,  and  then  my  dishes  began  to  come  and  I  had 
another  glass  of  wine  and  started  in  to  eat  my  dinner. 
My  eye !  But  it  was  good !  When  I  had  got  through 
the  venison  I  saw  the  second  man  was  staring  rather 
hard  if  respectful  at  me  and  I  says, 

"Wot  are  you  looking  at?"  I  says. 

38 


I  GET  IN  MR.  TOM'S  WAY 

"Beg  pardon,  sir,"  he  says  somewhat  embarrassed, 
"Ain't  you  Mr.  Ridges?"  he  says. 

"That's  my  name,"  I  says.  "I  ain't  ashamed  of  it !" 
says  I. 

"No  offense,  sir,"  he  says  very  apologetic,  "But 
don't  you  remember  William?'  " 

"William  wot,"  I  says. 

"William  Rafferty,"  he  says.  "Wot  used  to  be  witK 
you  at  Mr,  Carter's." 

And  then  I  recognized  him  for  he  had  been  second 
man  one  summer  at  The  Beeches  and  let  go  when  we 
come  back  to  town. 

"Of  course,"  I  says,  "How  are  you?"  I  says.  And 
with  that  he  began  to  tell  me  wot  hard  luck  he  had 
and  how  he  was  forced  to  take  a  job  wherever  he 
could  get  it.    Then  he  says, 

"No  offense,"  he  says,  "But  you  must  have  struck 
oil,"  says  he. 

Well,  all  this  took  some  time  and  it  got  to  be  arfter 
twelve  o'clock  and  a  good  many  of  the  people  began 
to  go  away,  only  those  who  remained  seemed  to  be 
having  a  better  time.  There  was  fewer  people  but 
more  noise,  and  although  I  was  getting  sleepy  I  had 
a  horrid  feeling  that  Eliza  might  slip  away  from  me. 
The  Turkish  band  began  to  play  the  Merry  Widow 
waltz  and  everybody  commenced  to  sing  even  the  sec- 
ond men  and  especial  the  two  ladies  next  door  who 
by  this  time  had  an  escort  who  had  come  from  an 

39 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

adjoining  table,  and  just  as  I  was  finishing  up  wot 
was  left  of  my  cheese  William  came  back  very  friendly 
and  there  on  his  tray  was  a  cigar  as  big  as  a  bobby's 
billy  and  he  says: 

"Have  a  cigar  on  me,  sir,"  he  says. 

Well  I  was  all  took  aback  for  I  knew  William  had 
played  in  hard  luck  but  I  was  afraid  he  would  feel  hurt 
if  I  refused  so  I  took  it  and  thanked  him  kindly  and 
said  if  he  was  out  of  a  job  next  spring  to  look  me  up. 
Then  I  asked  for  the  price  and  William  took  a  long 
pink  slip  out  of  his  waistcoat  and  laid  it  on  the  table 
and  at  the  bottom  of  it  was  twenty-seven  dollars  and 
eighty-five  cents!  You  could  have  knocked  me  over 
with  a  feather  duster.  I  knew  William  was  watching 
so  I  hardly  noticed  it  at  all  but  for  a  fact  I  felt  weak 
in  the  legs  as  I  put  my  hand  in  my  trousers  pocket. 
But  as  luck  would  have  it  I  had  nearly  harf  of  my 
month's  wages  with  me  and  I  tossed  one  twenty  and 
a  ten  dollar  note  over  to  William  and  says  lofty  "Keep 
the  change,  William,"  I  says. 

I  was  just  beginning  to  feel  that  since  I  had  paid 
for  pretty  near  the  whole  show  I  was  entitled  to  be 
there  when  I  saw  Eliza  and  Mr.  Tom  getting  up.  When 
the  butler  saw  me  he  came  running  over  and  hoping 
everything  had  been  satisfactory,  which  it  was,  saving 
the  price,  and  by  the  time  he  had  got  through  it  was 
time  for  me  to  take  up  the  persuit.  Eliza  looked  very 
worried  but  her  necklace  certainly  did  look  fine  and  she 

40 


I  GET  IN  MR.  TOM'S  WAY 

was  as  pretty  as  any  lady  there  and  a  good  deal  fresher, 
but  wot  I  was  to  do  I  had  no  idea.  I  waited  in  the 
doorway  while  Eliza  and  Mr.  Tom  had  a  kind  of 
argumentum  on  the  sidewalk,  and  she  put  her  hand  on 
his  arm  and  I  wanted  to  kill  him,  but  for  her  sake  I 
refrained  and  then  they  got  in.  Well  I  climbed  arfter 
them  into  my  cab  and  we  started  huptown. 

Maybe  they  was  going  home,  in  which  case  my  thirty 
dollars  would  have  been  lost,  for  I  did  not  need  the 
victuals,  and  if  they  wasn't,  why  wot  could  I  do?  I 
knew  Mr.  Tom  for  an  ugly  customer  drunk  or  sober. 
He  was  never  a  gentleman  in  either  state,  and  I  fancied 
he  was  pretty  well  harf  seas  over.  They  drove  fast 
and  when  they  got  to  Columbus  Circle  they  turned 
toward  the  Park.  Well,  I  says  to  myself,  the  Park 
is  no  place  for  EHza  with  him,  and  I  hollered  through 
the  hole  to  the  cabby  to  go  round  the  monniment  and 
cut  em  orf,  for  there  was  nothing  else  to  do  and  the 
time  had  come  for  something  to  happen. 

So  my  cabby  whips  up  his  horse  and  pretty  nearly 
runs  into  em  on  the  other  side  of  Columbus.  Both 
horses  was  pulled  back  on  their  harnches  and  both 
drivers  began  cussing  fast  and  lively  and  I  knew  if 
an3rthing  was  to  be  done  it  would  have  to  be  done 
orful  quick.  Mr.  Tom  had  leaped  out  of  his  hand- 
some and  was  swearing  at  his  driver  because  neither 
cabby  seemed  to  be  doing  anything,  and  I  stepped  out 
on  the  opposite  side  and  rushed  over  and  called  to 

41 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

Eliza  to  get  out.  She  didn't  hear  me  at  first  because 
she  was  watching  Mr.  Tom  but  presently  she  turned 
her  head  toward  me  and  I  could  see  she  was  orful 
white  and  trembly  and  I  whispered,  ''It's  all  right, 
Eliza — it's  me,  Peter!"  and  the  next  thing  I  knew  I 
had  climbed  in  with  her  and  she  had  grabbed  hold  of 
my  arm  and  began  sobbing  "O  wot  shall  I  do !  O  wot 
shall  I  do!"  Mr.  Tom  hadn't  seen  me  get  in  for  my 
cabby  had  begun  to  sass  him  and  call  him  names  and 
Mr.  Tom  was  roaring  out  that  he  would  have  him 
arrested,  and  there  was  such  a  noise  that  a  mounted 
policeman  came  galloping  over  from  the  Circle. 

"Wot  is  all  this  row  about?"  he  says. 

"This  cabby  ran  me  down  and  then  used  threat- 
ening language  to  me,"  says  Mr.  Tom,  shaking  his 
fist  at  my  cabby. 

"O  forgit  it,"  yells  the  cabby.  "It's  a  lie,  orficer. 
This  drunk  is  trying  to  occipy  two  kebs  at  once,"  he 
says. 

Well,  the  orficer  leaps  off  his  horse  and  backs  my 
cab  away  from  the  other  and  I  thought  I  saw  my  chance 
so  I  leaned  out  of  the  handsome  and  says  very  quiet: 

"Orficer,  this  man  is  so  drunk,"  I  says,  "that  he 
don't  know  which  is  his  own  cab,"  I  says.  "The  man 
he  is  abusing  is  his  own  driver." 

Then  the  orficer  seeing  me  and  Eliza  in  Mr.  Tom's 
handsome  turns  to  him  and  says  very  sharp, 

"Look  here!     Wot  is  the  matter  with  you?     Git 

42 


I  GET  IN  MR.  TOM'S  WAY 

back  in  your  own  cab  and  mind  your  business  or  I'll 
run  you  in!"  he  says. 

The  minute  Mr.  Tom  heard  my  voice  he  turned  and 
made  a  rush  for  us  but  the  orficer  grabbed  him  by  the 
collar  and  yanked  him  back  and  shouts, 

"Be  quiet  or  I'll  give  you  the  stick!"  he  says. 

So  Mr.  Tom  grinds  his  teeth  and  shakes  his  fist 
and  yells  out  that  I  was  a  strange  man  who  had  climbed 
into  his  cab  and  had  no  business  there,  but  the  orficer 
seeing  Eliza  beside  me  was  sure  that  Mr.  Tom  was 
simply  fighting  drunk,  so  he  gives  him  a  shake  so 
Mr.  Tom's  hat  fell  orf,  and  says: 

"I'll  give  you  one  more  chance.  Get  into  your  cab 
or  come  with  me,"  he  says. 

Mr.  Tom  looks  at  us  for  about  a  minute  with  the 
worst  scowl  on  his  face  you  ever  see  and  then  he  picks 
up  his  hat  and  shakes  orf  the  orficer  and  gets  into 
my  cab. 

So  I  says  to  the  orficer, 

"Thank  you,  orficer.  This  is  a  nice  performance 
to  have  happen  to  a  respectable  man  who  is  taking  a 
lady  home,"  I  says. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  says,  touching  his  cap.  "I  ought  to 
have  run  him  in,"  he  says,  "but  I'd  have  had  to  take 
you  along  as  witnesses  and  he'll  sober  up  all  right 
before  morning." 

"Good  night,"  I  says. 

43 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

"Good  night,  sir,"  he  says,  and  I  give  the  driver 
Mr.  Carter's  address. 

Then  I  found  that  Eliza  was  clinging  to  my  shoulder 
and  crying  and  I  tried  to  comfort  her,  but  she  kept 
saying  how  Mr.  Tom  would  have  us  both  discharged 
and  how  she  was  ashamed  to  go  home. 

"Next  time  you'll  believe  me!"  I  says. 

"O  Peter,"  she  says.  "Mr.  Tom  is  a  wicked  man, 
and  I  never  will  go  near  him  again." 

"Why  did  you  go  to-night?"  I  says. 

"Because  he  said  he  loved  me  and  he  promised  to 
marry  me,"  she  says  hiding  her  face  in  her  hands. 
"And  I  believed  him." 

"I  suppose  he  was  on  his  way  to  marry  you  when 
I  stopped  him,"  I  says. 

Then  I  was  sorry  I  had  said  it  and  begged  her  par- 
don and  said  no  one  should  ever  know  anything  about 
it  from  me,  and  as  for  Mr.  Tom  he  would  be  afraid 
to  tell.     But  I  knew  there  was  breakers  ahead  for  me. 


44 


Ill 

ON  SERVANTS  IN  GENERAL 

Most  employers  distrust  their  servants  and  think 
they  are  always  trying  to  get  the  best  of  them  or  do 
something  they  ought  not  to  do.  They  are  always 
complaining  because  the  parlor  maid  hasn't  dusted 
something,  or  the  front  door  bell  is  not  answered  in 
time,  or  the  butler  gets  a  telephone  message  wrong  or 
because  the  servants  don't  go  to  bed  at  harf  past  ten, 
and  they  say  that  all  servants  do  just  as  little  work 
as  they  can  without  being  discharged,  and  take  every 
advantage  and  is  extravagant  and  careless  and  un- 
grateful. Now  I  claim  to  have  had  some  experience 
in  such  matters  and  if  I  could  talk  free  to  some  of  the 
employers  they  would  open  their  eyes.  And  as  the 
most  important  thing  is  what  is  called  the  personal 
relation  I  will  begin  with  that  first. 

Is  servants  ungrateful?  Mrs.  Carter  often  says  to 
me,  "Ridges,  I  should  think  arfter  all  these  years  Jones 
(or  Thompson  or  William  or  Morton)  would  have 
some  affection  for  the  family  and  for  me  and  not 
leave  us  in  this  way  just  to  get  a  few  dollars  more 
at  the   Woolen-Smiths.     It  doesn't   seem  as   if  you 

45 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

could  get  anyone  to  stay  with  you,  no  matter  how 
well  you  treat  them!'* 

And  she  sighs  and  looks  resigned  and  the  house- 
keeper goes  down  to  Sleezy's  to  get  another  second 
man.     And  I  have  to  say: 

"Yes,  madam.     It  is  too  bad,  madam." 

Now  wot  I  would  like  to  say  is  this : 

"Arfter  all  you  have  done  for  Jones?  Wot,  may 
I  ask,  have  you  done  for  him  ?  You  have  given  him 
fifty-five  dollars  a  month  more  or  less  regular  and 
sometimes  three  weeks  later,  and  you  have  handed  him 
five  or  ten  dollars  at  Christmas  and  a  couple  of  fifty 
cent  cravats  and  a  horn  of  lemon  drops.  You  have 
seen  him  when  he  answered  the  bell  about  twice  a 
day  for  four  years  except  when  you  was  away,  which 
was  about  five  months  in  the  twelve.  I  don't  believe 
you  know  his  first  name,  and  you  would  not  recognize 
him  out  of  his  livery. 

'Wot  have  you  done  for  him?  You  have  allowed 
him  to  sleep  in  a  cold  six  by  twelve  bedroom  on  the 
top  of  the  house  and  to  have  an  evening  out  once 
in  two  weeks.  When  he  asks  you  to  go  to  the  Coach- 
man's Ball  you  act  as  if  you  thought  he  was  an  aban- 
doned rouey.  You  have  worked  him  from  seven  in 
the  morning  till  twelve  at  night  if  necessary,  and  you 
don't  know  wot  he  has  to  eat  or  that  the  bed  he  sleeps 
on  hasn't  any  springs  and  that  the  mattress  is  only 
two  inches  thick  and  is  fourteen  years  old. 

46 


ON  SERVANT'S  IN  GENERAL 

*Wot  have  you  done  for  him?  You  have  never 
given  him  a  word  of  encouragement  or  offered  to  raise 
his  wages  and  you  have  forgotten  that  he  existed  unless 
he  wasn't  around  when  you  rang  for  him.  If  the  tea- 
pot had  finger  marks  on  it,  or  his  shoes  weren't  clean 
(because  you  had  sent  him  out  to  post  a  letter),  or 
the  toast  was  cold,  or  the  window  shade  was  crooked 
you  have  taken  his  head  orf  and  frightened  him  into 
delirium  trimmings.  And  now  because  he  can  better 
hisself  and  get  sixty  dollars  in  another  place  and  be  a 
full  fledged  butler  you  call  him  ungrateful.  What  does 
he  owe  you  that  he  should  sacrifice  sixty  dollars  a  year 
to  stay  and  work  for  youf  Wot  do  any  of  us  owe 
you  ?    Is  it  such  a  priceless  privilege  to  wait  upon  you  ? 

"Why  should  Jones  have  any  personal  feeling  for 
you?  Have  you  got  any  for  himf  Would  you  hesi- 
tate to  let  him  go  if  you  didn't  need  him?  Would  you 
give  him  five  dollars  a  month  more  rather  than  have 
him  go?  Let  us  talk  sense  and  count  the  cards,  as 
Lord  Craven  used  to  say. 

"Jones  takes  a  job  as  a  servant  with  you  because 
he  can't  do  anything  better.  He  is  prepared  to  do  a 
certain  amount  of  work  for  a  certain  amount  of  money 
provided  he  gets  it,  which  is  not  always,  and  the 
victuals  and  beds  is  not  too  bad.  His  hours  is  long 
and  confining.  He  hasn't  got  such  a  lot  of  gray  mat- 
ter in  his  cocoanut  or  he  wouldn't  be  working  for  two 
dollars  a  day — a  carpenter  gets  four  and  a  harf,  and  a 

47 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

bricklayer  gets  five — so  you  can't  expect  him  to  be  a 
William  E.  Gladstone  or  a  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 

"Now,  if  you  had  a  seamstress  come  in  at  a  dollar 
and  a  harf  a  day  you  would  be  standing  over  her  to 
see  that  you  got  your  money's  worth,  or  if  you  had  a 
picture  hanger  at  sixty  cents  an  hour  you  would  keep 
him  busy  or  let  him  go  when  there  was  no  more  to  be 
done.  Well,  the  chances  are  that  unless  you  have  a 
housekeeper,  no  one  never  tells  Jones  just  wot  his 
work  is  or  where  it  begins  or  where  it  leaves  off.  You 
don't  know  yourself  whether  he  is  supposed  to  dust  the 
edg'e  of  the  hard  wood  floor  or  the  parlor  maid. 
Jones  knows  that  if  he  gives  in  to  her  she  will  end 
by  making  him  do  all  her  work,  and  for  her  part  she 
isn't  going  to  do  any  of  the  work  he  is  paid  to  do.  The 
end  of  it  is  that  it  isn't  done  at  all  and  then  there  is 
trouble. 

**But  even  if  you  lay  out  his  work  decent  and  in 
order,  and  don't  give  him  so  much  no  mortal  man  could 
do  it  and  have  any  time  to  rest,  do  you  ever  see  that 
he  does  it?  Is  there  anything  in  the  way  of  super- 
intendence over  him  that  amounts  to  anything?  Why, 
you  expect  him  to  go  like  a  clock  that  is  wound  up 
once  a  year,  only  the  chances  are  you  never  wind  him 
up  at  all.  You  treat  him  like  a  machine,  but  you 
never  oil  him  or  repair  him  or  give  him  a  thorough 
overhauling.  But  he  isn't  a  machine,  he  is  a  human 
being      If  you  have  horses  or  a  motor  you  have  the 

48 


ON  SERVANT'S  IN  GENERAL 

vet  look  them  over  every  month  or  so  and  send  the 
machine  to  be  put  into  shape  once  in  so  often.  But 
Jones  will  be  cleaning  brasses  when  he  has  water  on 
the  knee  and  you  will  never  know  it.  I  had  a  second 
man  once  that  worked  like  a  horse  for  five  weeks  while 
his  teeth  ached  fit  to  kill  him.  One  afternoon  he  asked 
permission  to  go  out  and  the  lady  started  at  him  and 
said  it  was  not  his  afternoon  and  scared  him  so  he 
went  back  to  work  without  saying  a  word.  The  next 
week  he  went  out  and  had  four  hupper  teeth  took  out 
all  at  once.     Gratitude,  indeed !" 

Now  the  second  thing  is  the  claim  that  servants 
have  a  hostile  attitude  and  also  a  "Fm-just-as-good-as- 
you-are"  manner,  which  is  another  way  of  saying  they 
are  impertinent,  but  that  is  all  a  matter  of  how  they 
have  been  treated.  If  you  treat  a  servant  like  a  human 
being,  he  or  she  will  treat  you  like  one.  No  servant 
expects  you  to  make  a  friend  of  him  any  more  than 
the  ashman.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  friendship  but  of 
business,  although  I  may  say  that  I  have  met  a  lot 
of  servants  who  were  more  worth  while  as  friends  than 
most  of  Mrs.  Carter's.  You  are  buying  something 
from  them  and  they  are  selling  something  to  you.  Now 
if  you  went  into  a  shop  and  snapped  at  the  girl  at  the 
counter  and  acted  as  if  she  was  dirt  under  your  feet 
you  could  hardly  expect  her  to  fall  on  your  neck.  Or 
if  you  did  not  notice  the  elevator  man  in  the  morning 
or  spoke  to  him  rude  he  would  probably  forget  to  stop 

49 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

at  your  floor  next  time.  If  you  treat  your  second- 
man  as  if  he  was  a  criminal  just  out  of  Sing  Sing  he 
will  be  very  apt  to  lose  interest  in  your  comfort.  You 
will  get  the  same  manners  as  you  give.  For  in  Eng- 
land and  America  a  servant  is  a  free  man  and  his  vote 
may  be  worth  as  much  as  yours,  and  while  he  does 
not  care  for  you  to  make  a  companion  of  him  he  has 
as  much  right  to  being  treated  civil  as  the  telephone  girl 
or  the  drug  clerk.  I  know  some  women  who  will 
spend  a  morning  in  a  hospital  for  crippled  children 
like  an  hangel  and  come  home  and  make  their  maid 
cry,  they  speak  so  sharp  to  her.  And  that  shows  a 
lack  of  the  sense  of  proportion.  There  are  impudent 
servants  but  there  are  impudent  clerks.  If  you  keep 
them  in  your  employ  you  have  no  one  to  blame  but 
yourself. 

Now  of  all  the  foolish  ideas  the  most  foolish  and 
the  one  that  makes  a  man  lose  all  patience  is  the  idea 
that  servants  must  be  stoopid  and  have  no  more  sense 
than  children.  Why,  it  is  enough  to  make  you  sick  if 
it  wasn't  funny  to  hear  Miss  Harriet  talk  to  one  of  the 
women  servants.  When  she  wants  to  be  nice  and  get 
something  out  of  one  of  them  she  talks  to  her  as  if 
she  was  a  child  in  a  Sunday-school  class. 

"How  nice  for  you  to  be  goin  to  a  party,"  she  will 
say  to  Evelyn  Raymond.  "You  may  have  my  old 
white  muslin  de  sware/'  she  says.     "Do  you  waltz  or 

SO 


ON  SERVANT'S  IN  GENERAL 

poker?  I  suppose  you  have  some  ice  cream  and  cake 
for  refreshments?" 

And  Evelyn  will  say : 

"Yes,  miss.  Thank  you,  miss,"  and  she  will  take  the 
dress  and  send  it  to  her  little  sister  who  is  at  the  Ford- 
ham  High  School.  And  then  she  will  tell  me  about  it 
and  laugh  fit  to  kill,  for  Evelyn  is  the  best  fancy  dancer 
orf  the  stage  in  New  York  and  goes  to  the  swellest 
public  balls  and  is  always  took  in  a  cab  and  has  the 
handsomest  dresses  you  ever  see.  One  is  a  Turkish 
costume  with  embroidery  and  red  stockings  and  slip- 
pers, and  another  is  a  gipsy,  and  I  know  for  a  fact 
that  there  is  two  hotel  men  on  Broadway  who  want  to 
her  to  marry  them,  to  say  nothing  of  about  a  dozen 
lawyers'  clerks,  travelling  men  and  a  swell  druggist. 
Her  eating  ice  cream !  My  eye !  Why  Evelyn  goes  to 
all  the  biggest  fancy  balls  in  style,  and  so  do  most  of 
the  other  girls,  only  they  go  in  the  cars.  What  makes 
her  so  high  flying  is  the  fact  that  she  had  a  friend 
named  Rachael  Bellew  who  used  to  work  with  her  and 
one  day  she  took  it  into  her  head  to  go  on  the  stage 
which  she  did  with  Edna  May  in  the  "School  Girl"  in 
the  chorus.  Well,  the  first  thing  anybody  knew  she 
was  in  a  singing  part  by  herself  and  all  the  rage,  and 
it  is  a  fact  that  she  married  one  of  the  richest  lords 
in  all  England  and  a  friend  of  Lord  Craven's,  and  wot 
is  more  /  have  waited  on  her  at  dinner  at  Craven  Hall 
when  they  was  on  a  visit.     But  I  never  told  Evelyn 

51 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

that  for  it  would  make  her  stuck  up.     But  they  do 
not  correspond  any  more  now. 

Now  for  the  others  there  is  the  Scandinavian  Ball, 
and  the  Austrian  Peasants  Ball,  and  the  French  Ball, 
and  all  kinds  of  social  political  organization  balls  and 
she  has  led  the  Grand  March  at  the  "Vesper"  with 
Alderman  Guinness  and  took  the  first  prize — a  gold 
jewelry  case.  And  there  is  more  champagne  than  at 
Mrs.  Carter's  swarees. 

Miss  Harriet  talks  to  her  as  if  all  she  could  possibly 
do  is  to  play  old  maid  and  read  the  "Bessy  Books," 
whereas  Evelyn  belongs  to  two  bridge  clubs  and  reads 
all  the  latest  trash.  Just  now  she  is  on  Bernard  Shaw, 
which  she  says  is  too  clever  for  anything,  and  that 
Mrs.  Carter  never  heard  of  him  or  if  she  has  she 
probably  thinks  he  is  the  Mr.  Shaw  who  was  Sec- 
retary of  the  Treasury.  But  of  course  very  few  ser- 
vants are  as  smart,  or  as  well  educated  or  has  as  good 
a  time  as  Evelyn. 

We  read  the  papers  and  know  as  much  of  what  is 
going  on  as  anyone.  In  our  kitchen  for  example  we 
subscribe  to  some  of  the  new  weeklies  and  all  the 
month-old  magazines  come  downstairs  regular.  There 
is  a  great  deal  of  reading  done,  the  only  objection  I 
have  being  that  the  novels  which  the  girls  bring  down 
from  hupstairs  is  most  of  them  improper  and  not  fit 
to  read.  But  they  hide  them  and  take  them  up  to  their 
rooms. 

52 


ON  SERVANT'S  IN  GENERAL 

Now  that  is  as  to  ignorance,  but  the  most  annoying 
thing  is  the  idea  that  the  servants  is  not  respectable. 
It  is  enough  to  make  you  boil. 

Every  time  anyone  wants  to  go  out  for  an  evening 
I  can  see  that  the  housekeeper  thinks  that  she  is 
going  to  perdition.  So  does  Mrs.  Carter  if  she  knows 
about  it.  Where  do  they  think  we  go?  Well,  if  an 
employer  had  the  interest  to  find  out  he  would  discover 
that  the  only  place  most  servants  can  go  is  to  call  on 
other  servants  at  some  other  house,  and  that  is  poor 
fun,  as  may  be  imagined.  For  most  of  them  cannot 
afford  to  go  to  the  theatre  and  there  are  not  so  many 
dances  as  you  would  think.  So  if  a  girl  goes  out  for 
an  evening  she  will  mostly  go  to  see  some  other  girl. 
Now  she  has  either  got  to  visit  her  in  the  laundry  or 
the  kitchen  or  go  up  to  her  room,  which  is  generally 
dismal  and  too  cold,  so  it  ends  orf  in  the  kitchen.  She 
sits  in  her  hat  by  the  servants'  table  while  her  friend 
gets  her  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  cookie  or  a  piece  of  cake 
and  they  talk  about  the  new  dress  she  is  having  made 
for  her  out  of  the  material  her  folks  sent  out  to  her 
from  the  old  country.  Well,  the  cook  is  there  pot- 
tering round  the  stove  and  most  of  the  other  servants 
is  either  there  or  rushing  in  and  out,  and  there  is  a 
lot  of  noise  and  so  she  goes  home  in  harf  an  hour  or 
so  and  that  is  the  end  of  it. 

Now,  if  she  is  lucky,  one  of  her  friends  may  invite 
her  to  the  theatre,  but  as  no  one  likes  to  go  in  a  cheap 

S3 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

way  they  go  where  they  can  get  the  best  there  is  for 
their  money — say  to  a  vaudeville,  instead  of  sitting  in 
the  gallery  at  a  big  theatre.  Most  of  the  girls  I  know 
go  with  other  girls  and  take  supper  in  some  restaurant 
on  Sixth  Avenue  and  then  take  in  the  show.  I  sup- 
pose their  superiors  imagine  they  are  indulging  in  all 
kinds  of  vice,  but  I  know  when  I  took  Eliza  to  a  vaude- 
ville we  went  first  to  a  lunch  room  and  had  coffee  and 
scrambled  eggs. 

Most  of  the  girls,  contrary  to  popular  belief,  have 
no  followers  hanging  round,  because  most  of  them 
would  not  marry  if  they  could.  You  would  be  sur- 
prised at  the  horrer  most  servants  have  for  matri- 
mony, for  most  of  them  is  country  girls  from  Germany 
or  England  or  Scandinavia,  where  they  have  lived  in 
the  open  air  and  had  plenty  to  eat  and  a  good-sized 
farmhouse  to  live  in.  They  could  not  stand  living  in  a 
three-room  flat  in  a  tenement  house  with  a  lot  of  chil- 
dren and  no  fresh  atmosphere,  and  they  look  down  on 
any  woman  who  is  fool  enough  to  do  it.  The  cleverest 
girl  I  know  is  a  Swede.  She  is  a  second  parlor  maid 
and  her  father  is  a  stock  farmer  outside  of  Stockholm 
and  is  quite  prosperous.  She  came  over  because  she 
had  heard  such  wonderful  stories  about  America,  and 
she  has  one  brother  who  is  an  engineer  and  another 
who  is  mate  on  an  ocean  liner.  She  earns  twenty-five 
a  month  and  she  would  laugh  in  your  face  if  you  asked 
her  to  marry  you.     She  is  in  service  because  she  is 

54 


ON  SERVANT^S  IN  GENERAL 

wise  enough  to  know  that  it  is  easy  money  and  she 
gets  a  comfortable  home  thrown  in.  She  has  made  a 
scientifick  study  of  it  and  spends  all  her  money  in 
taking  night  courses  in  massage,  hair-dressing  and 
cooking.  Now  she  has  just  one  ambition  in  life  and 
that  is  to  lay  by  enough  money  sooner  or  later  so  as 
to  be  independent  in  her  old  age.  That  is  a  orful 
thing,  isn't  it !  She  is  as  pretty  as  can  be  and  I  have 
no  doubt  Mrs.  Carter  thinks  she  has  a  dozen  men  arfter 
her  all  the  time,  but  Olga  is  only  looking  to  earn  her 
living  and  be  independent.  By  and  by  she  will  hire 
a  house,  may  be,  and  take  boarders.  Well,  she  has 
no  use  for  men  and  indeed  she  is  too  intelligent  and 
good  looking  for  most  of  the  ones  that  come  to  the 
kitchen.  I  will  wager  a  good  deal  that  Mrs.  Carter's 
mother  was  less  of  a  lady  than  my  aunt  Jane  at  Wap- 
ping-on-Velly,  and  did  not  Lord  Craven's  great  grand- 
father marry  a  dairymaid? 

The  surprising  thing  is  that  the  girls  are  as  nice 
and  decent  as  they  are,  for  if  a  girl  wants  to  be 
honest  when  she  is  in  service  she  has  got  to  be  ready 
to  lose  her  situation  any  day  for  the  sake  of  her  soul. 
For  if  a  man  servant  speaks  to  her  as  he  ought  not  to 
and  she  cannot  stop  him  and  she  tells  her  mistress, 
the  man  makes  up  a  story  a  great  deal  worse  and  says 
that  it  was  the  girl  and  not  he  and  that  she  is  trying 
to  lose  him  his  place  because  he  would  not  pay  at- 
tention to  her,  just  like  Potiphar's  wife.     So  all  an 

55 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

honest  girl  can  do  is  to  give  notice  and  try  her  luck 
somewhere  else. 

A  great  deal  of  talk  among  people  who  employ  ser^ 
vants  is  pure  ignorance.  One  often  hears  a  lady  say 
at  table, 

"O,  I  dare  say  my  servants  behave  orful,  but  I 
haven't  time  to  bother  with  them.  Their  morals  is 
their  own  concern  so  long  as  they  keep  them  to  them- 
selves." 

And  I  have   frequent  wanted  to   say: 

"Excuse  me,  madam,  but  if  you  think  there  is  less 
self-respect  below  stairs  than  above  you  are  very  much 
mistaken,  and  as  for  morals  you  will  find  quite  as 
many  in  your  own  kitchen  as  in  your  drawring-room 
after  dinner,"  which  is  true,  for  I  have  been  in  serv- 
ice twenty  years  and  I  never  yet  heard  at  the  servants' 
table  anything  approaching  the  talk  at  a  swell  dinner, 
which  I  have  served  not  a  few. 

People  in  service  are  just  like  people  anywhere  else, 
and,  if  you  think  a  minute,  you  will  see  that  if  a  lot  of 
strange  ladies  and  gentlemen  met  in  a  railroad  station 
and  had  to  eat  at  the  same  table  they  would  have  as 
good  manners  as  they  knew  how  and  talk  agreeable. 
Now  where  is  the  difference?  The  people  in  service 
are  all  on  a  journey  through  life  to  better  theirselves 
and  come  and  go  and  are  always  changing,  and  when 
they  sit  down  to  eat  together  they  put  their  best  feet 
forwards  and  talk  like  anybody  else.     Each  one  is 

56 


ON  SERVANT'S  IN  GENERAL 

different,  and  some  is  hard-working  and  some  is  loafers, 
and  some  is  intelligent  and  some  is  stoopid,  and  some 
is  nice  and  some  is  not,  but  the  ones  that  are  not  pre- 
tend to  be,  just  like  the  people  in  society  do,  and 
each  one  wants  to  make  the  best  impression  he  or  she 
can,  so  that  apart  from  the  mixture  of  languages  and 
the  uncultivated  manner  of  speech  of  many  the  ser- 
vants' table  is  very  much  like  the  dinners  at  a  board- 
ing-house. In  fact,  there  is  much  more  religion  in 
the  kitchen  than  anywhere  else,  for  although  I  regret 
to  say  it  I  have  not  met  in  society  many  people  that, 
apart  from  giving  away  money,  are  religious.  They 
have  enough  religion  to  scare  them,  but  not  enough 
to  comfort  them. 

For  who  are  the  servants?  Take  our  own  house. 
There  is  Denis  Darroq  who  is  a  high-class  Frenchman 
and  a  student,  like  myself,  of  literature.  His  assist- 
ants are  serious,  well-educated,  respectable  married  men. 
The  kitchen  maid  is  a  Swedish  girl  who  used  to  work 
on  a  farm  and  is  very  jolly  and  nice.  Of  my  four 
second  men,  one  was  a  gardener  who  lost  his  health 
and  had  to  work  in  the  house  and  who  is  so  religious 
(being  Scotch)  that  he  is  a  bore.  One  is  a  young  fel- 
low just  married  with  a  little  baby.  Another  used  to 
be  with  Mr.  Amos's  father  before  he  failed,  and  the 
fourth  is  a  nephew  of  my  Aunt  Jane  on  her  husband's 
side  from  Wapping-on-Velly.     The  pantry  maid  is  a 

57 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

veterinary's  daughter  who  has  to  work  that  hard  she 
goes  to  bed  as  soon  as  the  dishes  is  cleaned  up. 

If  I  should  go  over  the  men  and  girls  in  our  house 
and  tell  Mrs.  Carter  how  hard  they  work  and  wot  they 
do  with  their  money  she  would  not  believe  me,  for 
there  is  James  who  sends  twenty  dollars  every  month 
to  his  old  mother  in  Yorkshire,  and  Olga  who  puts  hers 
in  the  bank  to  buy  a  annuity,  and  Eliza  who  helps  take 
care  of  her  grandmother  and  grandfather  in  the  Senile 
Home,  and  Evelyn  who  is  sending  her  sister  to  the 
High  School  and  then  to  College,  and  Aunty  Robin- 
son who  spends  harf  the  money  that  Mr.  Carter  gives 
her  on  other  people.  And  for  that  matter,  as  I  have 
no  father  or  mother  and  there  is  no  one  to  look  out  for 
my  Aunt  Jane,  I  send  a  draft  to  Wapping-on-Velly 
regular  every  month  and  once  in  a  while  I  give  a  little 
away.  And  it  cost  me  thirty-five  dollars  to  get  Eliza 
away  from  Mr.  Tom,  but  if  that  is  all  it  cost  it  is 
cheap  enough. 

And  when  we  seem  stoopid  and  careless  and  indif- 
ferent (because  we  do  not  know  how  else  to  act) 
people  should  remember  that  arfter  all  there  is  not  so 
much  in  life  to  make  it  merry  and  that  most  of  us 
has  only  a  dreary  old  age  of  poverty  to  look  forward 
to  without  wife  or  husband  or  children  and  perhaps  only 
the  workhouse,  and  they  should  be  careful  how  they 
assume  that  because  people  are  in  service  they  are  im- 
moral and  unrespectable,  when  if  they  only  knew  they 

58 


ON  SERVANT'S  IN  GENERAL 

would  find  that  all  we  are  trying  to  do  is  to  keep  from 
becoming  a  charge  upon  our  relatives  and  that  the  only 
pleasure  we  get  is  a  little  dancing. 

And  when  I  hear  some  ladies  casting  their  aspersions 
on  the  girls  in  service  I  would  like  to  ask  the  one  with- 
out sin  to  cast  the  first  stone,  for  there  is  as  much 
decency  and  kindliness  below  stairs  as  above.  And 
whenever  a  nice  young  fellow  asks  one  of  our  girls  to 
a  ball  I  am  glad  to  see  her  go,  for  dancing  is  almost 
the  only  pleasure  they  get,  poor  things,  and  most  of 
them  have  to  dance  together  for  lack  of  partners,  and 
I  remember  when  I  took  Olga  to  the  Scandinavian 
ball  as  a  sailor  boy  she  had  me  all  over  the  hall  for 
she  had  forgotten  how  to  dance  like  a  woman. 

And  sometimes  when  I  go  hupstairs  and  meet  the 
little  kitchen  maid  dragging  up  in  her  best  clothes  arf ter 
being  out  sitting  in  some  kitchen  for  a  good  time,  I 
think  of  how  far  from  home  she  is  and  everybody 
she  loves  and  how  presently  she  will  be  getting  down 
on  her  knees  in  her  cold  little  room  all  by  herself  and 
praying  God  to  look  arfter  her  and  I  smile  to  her  and 
bid  her  "Good-night"  and  say  to  myself,  so  she  will 
not  hear,  ''God  bless  you!" 


59 


IV 

GETTING  IN  ON  "tHE  GROUND  FLOOR** 

I  HAVE  always  wondered  why  there  was  so  much 
more  money  here  than  in  England,  for  there  is  no 
doubt  about  it  at  all  especially  in  New  York.  Over 
there  almost  any  one  will  tell  you  how  poor  he  is  and 
the  greatest  lords  will  take  time  and  trouble  to  figure 
out  how  to  save  a  little,  but  if  anybody  tries  to  save 
anything  in  New  York  they  think  he  is  mean,  and 
probably  he  is  with  money  so  easy  to  get.  In  the 
first  place  most  of  the  gentlemen  are  stock-brokers  and 
the  first  thing  any  one  says  on  his  arrival  is  "How 
is  the  market?"  and  "Wot  about  Steel  common?"  For 
a  long  time  there  was  a  joke  that  everybody  got  orf  that 
came  into  the  house  which  was  that  "Steel  preferred 
maketh  the  heart  sick."  To  understand  it  you  have  to 
be  familiar  with  the  Scriptures,  but  there  is  one  thing 
and  that  is  that  except  when  they  are  at  home  stock- 
brokers are  the  jolliest  lot  of  men  you  ever  saw.  I 
have  seen  millions  made  and  lost  right  while  I  was 
passing  the  roast,  as  it  were.  The  curious  thing  is  that 
men  who  talk  about  millions  as  if  they  were  nothing 
will  work  a  whole  lot  to  get  a  hundred  dollars. 

60 


GETTING  IN  ON  "THE  GROUND  FLOOR" 

Mr.  Amos  says  that  the  business  of  stock-brokers  is 
to  induce  people  to  sell  wot  they  have  not  got  in  order 
to  purchase  that  which  they  have  not  the  money  to  pay 
for.  Anyhow  they  are  always  on  the  job  and  I  have 
seen  some  of  them  take  orders  for  stocks  right  at  Mrs. 
Carter's  table.  A  stock-broker  is  always  glad  to  see 
anybody,  or  to  take  a  drink,  or  a  hand  at  cards,  or 
give  you  a  cigar.  There  was  a  member  of  a  Wall 
Street  firm  who  offered  me  fifty  dollars  if  I  would 
change  his  room  at  The  Beeches,  so  as  to  be  next  to  a 
big  trader  from  Chicago.  Well,  of  course  I  couldn't 
do  it  and  I  was  surprised  he  should  ask  me,  but  that 
night  for  a  fact  he  got  into  that  very  room  by  mistake 
and  before  he  got  out  the  valet  says  he  sold  the  Chi- 
cago man  five  thousand  shares  of  Rubber.  James  says 
if  you  buy  Rubber  you  may  get  wiped  out  and  that 
Baking  Powder  is  bound  to  rise.  He  thinks  he  is 
witty  but  I  have  an  idea  that  some  one  told  it  to  him. 

Well,  to  hear  most  people  talk  you  would  imagine 
that  they  had  all  been  born  multi-millionaires.  They 
all  know  just  wot  Congress  is  going  to  do  and  where 
John  W.  Gates  is  spending  Sunday  and  it  is  merely  a 
question  which  one  of  a  hundred  sure  things  they  will 
put  each  other  into.  The  funny  part  of  it  is  that  al- 
though none  of  them  believe  the  things  they  say  them- 
selves they  all  believe  a  part  of  wot  the  others  tell  them. 
There  is  a  herd  of  deers  up  at  the  Zoo  where  I  some- 
times go  with  Eliza  on  Sunday  and  stock-brokers  are 

6i 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

just  like  that.  Maybe  a  little  boy  will  throw  an  empty 
bag  over  the  fence  and  they  will  all  run  and  try  to 
gobble  it  up,  and  again  of  some  one  chucks  in  some- 
thing real  to  eat  they  will  not  look  at  it  at  all.  S one- 
times they  will  stand  with  their  ears  pricked  up  think- 
ing they  hear  something  and  then  away  they  all  go 
as  if  to  see  which  can  hide  first. 

Mr.  Carter  is  a  genius  at  making  money.  He  is  a 
smooth  talker  and  he  looks  so  innocent  you  would  think 
it  was  a  shame  to  take  his  money.  I  have  heard  that 
lots  of  people  took  up  with  Mr.  Carter  because  they 
thought  he  was  easy  and  they  hang  on  to  him  now 
because  they  found  he  could  give  them  points  on  how 
to  get  it  out  of  other  people.  I  think  Mr.  Carter  is 
honest  as  judged  by  Wall  Street  standards,  but  the 
unfortunate  part  of  that  business  is  that  every  time 
anybody  makes  a  dollar  some  one  else  has  to  lose  it. 

The  other  night  Mr.  Carter  had  a  dinner  for  some 
friends — all  gentlemen,  and  a  great  many  of  them  on 
Wall  Street.  There  were  some  others  including  Mr. 
Amos  and  it  was  to  meet  Mr.  O'Connor  the  great  trac- 
tion and  subway  man,  and  Mr.  Carter  said  he  wanted 
Mr.  Amos  to  give  it  tone.  Well,  I  was  kept  busy  all 
the  morning  ordering  all  kinds  of  extra  things  from 
the  victualler  and  Mr.  Carter  spent  an  hour  with  me 
picking  out  the  wines  himself. 

Mr.  O'Connor  came  early  and  I  showed  him  into  the 
library  and  he  and  Mr.  Carter  worked  for  some  time 

62 


GETTING  IN  ON  "THE  GROUND  FLOOR" 

at  the  little  desk  by  the  window.  Then  they  had  whisky 
and  soda  and  lounged  around  in  front  of  the  fire.  Mr. 
O'Connor  is  jolly  looking  like  Mr.  Carter,  only  he  is 
very  much  fatter.  He  looks  as  if  everything  agreed 
well  with  him  and  it  is  quite  hard  to  tell  where  his 
neck  leaves  orf  and  his  head  begins,  but  his  voice  is 
as  soft  and  gentle  as  a  sucking  dove  and  he  has  a  way 
of  saying  things  that  makes  them  seem  wonderful  and 
mysterious.  When  I  came  in  to  take  the  glasses  he 
was  just  saying  to  Mr.  Carter: 

*'There  is  just  enough  there  to  make  the  thing  a 
cinch,"  he  says.  "No  one  can  deny  that  it  has  pos- 
sibilities. We  have  got  sixty  thousand  now  and  we 
could  even  afford  to  buy  forty  more  to  give  it  a  start 
and  help  it  along,"  he  says. 

"It  looks  good  to  me,  Charley,"  says  Mr.  Carter 
and  they  shook  hands  on  it. 

The  dinner  was  a  great  affair  and  the  gentlemen 
all  came  in  automobiles  except  Mr.  Amos.  There 
were  three  bank  presidents,  and  one  president  of  a 
trust  company,  and  two  Supreme  Court  judges,  and  a 
leader  of  Tammany  Hall  and  a  number  of  Wall  Street 
or  as  we  would  say  "City"  gentlemen.  They  were  all 
the  kind  that  are  let  in  on  the  ground  floor  of  every 
thing  and  this  was  to  be  a  sort  of  "letting-in"  party. 
As  fast  as  they  came  in  they  was  each  introduced  to 
Mr.  O'Connor  and  then  Mr.  Carter  took  them  over  and 
gave  them  a  cocktail.     It  was  five  and  forty  minutes 

63 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

arfter  eight  before  the  two  dozen  of  them  went  into 
dinner  and  I  had  poured  sixty-one  cocktails  by  actual 
count,  so  that  everybody  was  having  a  fine  time  and 
all  had  become  great  friends.  The  judges  especially 
thought  Mr.  O'Connor  was  fine  and  got  on  each  side 
of  him.  Of  course  we  had  sherry  and  white  wine  right 
orf  together  with  whisky,  and  the  champagne  was 
served  with  the  fish.  By  the  time  the  ontray  was  served 
there  was  a  spirit  of  confidence  and  affection  hanging 
over  the  table  like  a  benediction.  Mr.  Carter  had  not 
said  the  dinner  was  in  honor  of  Mr.  O'Connor  but 
everybody  seemed  to  think  he  was  the  most  dis- 
tinguished man  there  and  finally  some  one  proposed 
his  health  and  they  all  drank  it  most  enthusiastic.  Then 
one  of  the  judges  got  up  and  said  as  how  it  was  a 
great  pleasure  to  meet  one  who  held  the  balance  of 
power  in  the  financial  world  and  could  buy  up  kings 
and  principalities  as  if  they  was  chocolate  eclairs  and 
a  lot  of  stuff  about  the  duty  of  the  courts  to  preserve 
the  stability  of  economic  conditions  and  not  to  legislate 
and  wot  a  sin  it  was  for  any  man  to  try  and  stretch 
the  Constitution  of  the  United  States,  so  that  Mr. 
O'Connor  was  deeply  touched  and  made  a  very  solemn 
speech  about  the  danger  of  disturbing  the  country's 
prosperity  and  so  forth,  and  then  he  changed  his  man- 
ner and  told  a  funny  story  about  a  cow  that  made 
everybody  nearly  die  laughing.  Well,  pretty  soon  one 
of  the  Wall  Street  gentlemen  hollered  across  the  table 

64 


GETTING  IN  ON  "THE  GROUND  FLOOR*' 

at  Mr.  O'Connor  to  know  if  there  was  anything  good 
that  he  knew  about,  and  everybody  stopped  talking 
on  the  instant  so  you  could  hear  a  pin  drop  and  James 
sneaked  up  and  stood  right  behind  Mr.  O'Connor's 
chair. 

"Ah!"  he  says,  "Mr.  Skinner,  if  I  knew  of  anything 
good  I  would  be  a  rich  man  myself!" 

Well,  at  that  everybody  laughed  a  lot  because  they 
knew  Mr.  O'Connor  was  busting  with  money. 

"There  is  one  thing  I  make  it  a  rule  never  to  do," 
he  continues,  "and  that  is  to  advise  a  friend  to  buy  or 
sell  a  stock,  and  I  feel  that  we  are  all  friends  here," 
he  says.  "I  never  took  a  tip  and  I  never  gave  one. 
When  I  buy  a  stock,"  he  says,  "it  is  because  I  have 
made  a  thorough  study  of  it  as  a  business  proposition 
from  the  ground  up.  If  the  value  ain't  there  I  don't 
touch  it.  If  the  value  is  there  I  study  the  probable 
future  conditions.  If  there  is  anything  I  deprecate," 
he  says,  "it  is  stock  gambling." 

Well,  the  gentlemen  hadn't  expected  just  that  but 
they  applauded  wot  he  said  and  I  could  see  they  all 
wanted  to  find  out  wot  he  had  looked  into  "as  a  business 
proposition."  So  there  was  general  conversation  for  a 
while  and  then  somebody  asked  wot  Mr.  O'Connor 
thought  of  "Chicle."  Mr.  O'Connor  said  he  thought 
Chicle  was  fine,  and  that  it  would  stick,  and  Mr.  Amos 
added  that  it  was  a  easily  digestible  security.  Well, 
arfter  that  they  asked  him  about  all  sorts  of  things  but 

6s 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

he  put  them  orf  and  talked  about  politics  and  how 
the  President  was  a  menace  to  Wall  Street  and  he 
was  as  mum  as  an  oyster,  but  as  it  got  toward  time 
for  desert  everybody,  and  especially  the  judges,  got  to 
pressing  him  for  information  all  at  once  and  he  sort 
of  yielded  as  if  he  was  going  to  tell  them  something 
and  then  he  stopped  and  they  all  looked  fearfully  dis- 
appointed and  Mr.  Carter  shouted,  "O  go  on,  Charley, 
wot  is  it?" 

"Yes,  yes!"  they  all  says,  "Tell  us  wot  it  is,  Mr. 
O'Connor." 

"Well,"  he  says,  *T  have  looked  into  one  property 
recently  that  I  think  well  of  and  that  is  Toledo  Tube. 
I  think  it  has  a  great  future.  There  is  a  city  of  three 
hundred  thousand  inhabitants  with  most  rudimentary 
facilities  for  transportation,"  he  says.  "The  tube  is 
most  dug,  and  the  rolling  stock  is  all  purchased,  and 
they  will  have  trains  in  operation  in  a  few  weeks.  They 
are  certain  to  pay  six  per  cent,  and  the  stock  is  selling 
around  forty.  It  looks  good  to  me.  With  the  natural 
growth  of  the  city  it  will  become  a  great  property." 

So  they  asked  him  more  about  it  and  he  went  on 
giving  figures  and  percentages,  and  to  tell  about  depre- 
cation and  stinking  funds,  and  all  that,  and  then  he 
shuts  up  like  a  clam  and  wouldn't  say  anything  more 
about  it  at  all,  and  Mr.  Carter  said  it  was  time  to  smoke 
and  we  might  as  well  go  into  the  picture  gallery,  which 
they  did  most  reluctant. 

66 


GETTING  IN  ON  "THE  GROUND  FLOOR" 

There  is  a  big  picture  over  the  fireplace  there  that 
Mr.  Carter  had  painted  by  a  famous  artist  for  a  great 
lot  of  money  and  as  I  was  bringing  in  the  coffee  he 
was  pointing  it  out  to  one  of  the  judges  and  telling 
him  about  it.  It  is  a  picture  of  a  group  of  ladies  and 
gentlemen  in  a  forest  and  is  quite  pretty  and  dreamy 
and  there  is  a  fool  in  parti-colored  raiment,  so  Mr. 
Carter  he  waved  his  hand  up  toward  it  and  says 
careless-like : 

"There  is  a  little  thing  I  had  done  to  order,"  he 
says.     "By  Abby,"  says  he. 

"Ah,  indeed!"  says  the  judge  putting  on  his  glasses. 
"Wot  is  it?"  he  says. 

"A  scene  from  Shakespeare,"  says  Mr.  Carter. 

"Ah,  indeed!"  says  the  judge.  "Wot  particular 
play  does  it  represent?" 

Then  Mr.  Carter  put  his  hand  in  his  trousers  pocket 
and  screwed  up  his  mouth  and  hesitated  quite  a  while, 
and  then  he  says : 

"It  is  a  scene  from  Shakespeare,"  he  says,  "But  I'll 
be  hanged  if  I  remember  which  play  it  is  or  wot  it  is 
about." 

Well, 'the  judge  he  didn't  say  anything,  but  he  reached 
over  and  began  to  drink  his  coffee  and  pretty  soon 
one  of  the  judges  proposed  a  game  of  cards,  so  I  had 
the  tables  brought  in  and  they  got  up  a  game  of  pdker. 
Mr.  O'Connor  didn't  play  but  sat  in  front  of  the  fire 

^1 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

with  a  group  of  City  gentlemen  and  when  I  served  the 
Hqueurs  I  heard  him  talking  about  Toledo  Tube  again. 

Now  I  had  been  keeping  my  ears  open  you  may  be 
sure  and  when  I  heard  wot  a  fine  property  it  was  and 
how  much  confidence  Mr.  O'Connor  had  in  it  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  I  would  not  let  the  grass  grow  under 
my  feet  either. 

*'Here  is  my  chance,"  I  says  to  myself,  "to  get  my 
publick-house,"  I  says. 

Well,  the  party  was  a  late  one  and  I  was  that  sleepy 
I  could  have  dropped  off  standing  up,  but  finally  they 
all  went  and  I  closed  up  the  house. 

Next  morning  Mr.  Carter  had  his  breakfast  served 
hupstairs  and  I  slipped  out  as  soon  as  I  could  and 
went  to  the  bank  where  I  had  deposited  my  savings 
and  got  them  out  which  was  five  hundred  dollars  in 
all.  I  asked  the  banker's  dark  where  one  could  buy 
stocks  and  he  referred  me  to  a  place  just  aroimd  the 
corner  near  by.  I  had  never  been  to  a  broker's  office 
before  and  I  was  quite  excited  when  I  opened  the 
door  and  stepped  in.  It  was  about  five  and  forty 
minutes  arfter  nine  o'clock  and  the  place  was  quite 
empty  except  for  a  small  boy  cleaning  up  the  floor 
and  a  young  gentleman  smoking  with  his  feet  up  on 
the  desk  and  reading  of  a  newspaper.  When  he  saw 
me  he  swings  his  feet  down  and  gets  up  very  polite 
and  says : 

"Good-morning,  sir,  wot  can  I  do  for  you?" 

68 


GETTING  IN  ON  "THE  GROUND  FLOOR" 

Then  a  queer  look  came  over  his  face  and  he  sort 
of  stammered  and  I  says: 

*'I  want  to  purchase  some  stocks,"  I  says. 

"O,  you  do!'*  he  says,  in  quite  a  different  tone. 
"By  the  way,"  he  says,  "Wot  is  your  name?" 

"Peter  Ridges,"  I  says,  "And  I  am  employed  by 
Mr.  Carter,"  I  says. 

"O  ho!"  he  laughs,  "So  that  is  it!  Don't  you  re- 
member me?"  he  says,  "I'm  Mr.  Williams." 

Then  I  remembered  him  at  once  for  being  a  gen- 
tleman that  often  called  at  the  house  to  ask  for  Miss 
Patricia  but  I  had  been  so  excited  I  had  not  recalled 
him  at  first. 

"Certainly,  sir,"  I  says.  "Of  course  I  do,  and  I 
am  glad  to  find  some  one  I  know,  sir,  for  I  never 
tried  to  buy  any  stocks  before." 

"Well,  why  do  you  want  to  buy  em  now  ?"  he  says, 
quite  interested. 

"I  have  some  information,"  I  says,  "that  I  think 
is  valuable." 

"Don't  say!"  he  says.  "Sit  down  won't  you  and 
have  a  cigar?"  and  he  takes  out  a  box  of  Invincibles 
and  hands  em  to  me. 

Now  I  had  never  sat  in  a  gentleman's  presence  be- 
fore except  Mr.  Amos,  but  I  thought  of  my  five  hun- 
dred dollars  and  made  up  my  mind  that  if  Mr.  Williams 
asked  me  to  I  might  as  well  do  it  and  take  the  cigar 
besides  which  I  did.     So  Mr.  Williams  sat  down  too 

69 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

and  just  then  a  little  machine  like  a  glass  beehive  began 
to  tick  and  write  something  on  a  piece  of  ribbing  paper 
and  he  says : 

"They're  orf,"  he  says,  "Wot  are  you  going  to  buy?" 

"  ^Toledo  Tube/  sir,"  I  says. 

"  Toledo  Tube' !"  he  says. 

"Yes,"  I  says,  "I  understand  it  is  a  very  good  propo- 
sition," I  says. 

"Who  told  you?"  he  asks. 

"Mr.  O'Connor,"  I  says,  "But  I  merely  happened 
to  overhear  wot  he  told  a  party  of  gentlemen." 

"Well,  that  sounds  pretty  good  to  me,"  says  Mr. 
Williams  when  I  got  through  telling  him  about  it. 
**How  much  do  you  want  to  buy?" 

"All  I  can,"  I  says,  "for  five  hundred  dollars." 

"That  would  be  fifty  shares  ordinarily,"  he  says, 
"But  I  will  give  you  a  special  rate  at  five  points  mar- 
gin and  you  can  buy  a  hundred,"  he  says. 

So  I  said  thank-you  and  he  got  up  and  looked  at 
the  ribbing  paper  in  the  glass  beehive  and  says: 

"Jumping  Jerusalem !"  he  says.  "  Toledo  Tube' 
opened  at  47  and  has  gone  up  four  points  on  sales 
of  twenty-five  hundred  shares.  If  you  are  going  to 
buy  you  had  better  buy  quick." 

So  I  says  go  ahead  and  Mr.  Williams  went  over 
to  a  telephone  and  told  some  one  down  town  to  buy 
a  hundred  "T.  T."  at  the  market.     In  the  meantime 

70 


GETTING  IN  ON  "THE  GROUND  FLOOR" 

the  machine  said  it  had  gone  up  another  point  and 
Mr.  Williams  says : 

"There !  There  are  your  hundred  shares  just  come 
out  on  the  tape  at  52." 

Then  he  whispered  something  to  the  orfice  boy  who 
ran  out  as  fast  as  he  could  without  his  hat,  and  then 
he  called  the  man  up  on  the  telephone  again  and  told 
him  to  buy  a  thousand  more. 

"That  is  not  for  me,  is  it  ?"  I  says. 

"O,  no,"  he  says.  "That  is  for  another  customer," 
he  says. 

So  I  sat  there  smoking  and  wondering  how  much 
I  would  make  and  pretty  soon  the  orfice  boy  came  in 
and  arfter  a  while  a  stout  gentleman  in  a  fur  coat. 

"This  is  our  Mr.  Walker,"  says  Mr.  Williams.  "Mr. 
Walker,  I  want  you  to  know  Mr.  Ridges,  a  new  cus- 
tomer of  the  house,"  he  says. 

So  we  shook  hands  and  Mr.  Walker  passed  me  the 
weather  and  then  he  sat  down  at  a  desk  and  began 
calling  up  a  lot  of  people  on  the  telephone. 

Every  once  in  a  while  he  would  speak  to  Mr.  Wil- 
liams and  Mr.  Williams  would  call  up  the  man  down 
town  and  order  more  "T.  T." 

"This  T.  T.*  is  a  great  thing,"  he  says,  "We  have 
just  had  some  special  information  about  it,"  he  says, 
"which  entirely  corroborates  you,"  he  says. 

Well,  I  stayed  just  to  see  how  fast  it  would  go  up 
and  about  every  third  thing  on  the  ribbing  was  "T.  T.," 

71 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

a  hundred,  or  five  hundred,  or  a  thousand  shares,  and 
once  somebody  bought  five  thousand,  and  it  kept  going 
up  and  up  and  when  it  got  to  59  Mr.  WilHams  says, 
says  he: 

"I  congratulate  you,"  he  says.  "You  have  made 
seven  hundred  dollars." 

My  heart  nearly  stopped  for  I  had  no  idea  you  could 
make  money  that  fast,  so  I  says: 

"Do  you  think  I  had  better  sell,  now?"  I  says. 

"Well,"  he  says,  "You  can  do  as  you  like,  but  my 
information  is  that  it  is  going  to  par." 

"How  high  is  that?"  I  says. 

"To  100,"  he  says. 

"And  how  much  would  I  make  in  that  case?"  I 
says. 

"Four  thousand  eight  hundred  dollars,"  he  says. 

My  eye!  But  I  nearly  dropped,  I  was  that  as- 
tonished. 

"Do  you  think  I  can  make  all  that  ?"  I  says. 

"Why  not?"  he  says.  "If  it's  good  for  anything 
it's  worth  that!" 

By  that  time  "T.  T."  was  up  to  63,  and  the  orfice 
was  beginning  to  fill  up  with  a  great  many  young 
gentlemen  some  of  which  I  had  seen  before  at  our 
house. 

Mr.  Williams  whispered  to  all  of  them  and  most 
of  them  spoke  to  me  and  asked  me  how  I  was  most 
friendly,  and  by  and  by  Mr.  Walker  invited  me  to 

72 


GETTING  IN  ON  "THE  GROUND  FLOOR" 

come  into  his  back  orfice  and  put  a  chair  by  his  desk 
for  me  and  closed  the  door  and  gave  me  another 
cigar,  and  says: 

"I  do  not  suppose  you  have  considered  the  matter," 
he  says,  "But  we  might  make  an  arrangement  profit- 
able to  us  both,"  he  says. 

"How  is  that,  sir?"  I  says. 

"Why,  you  are  by  way  of  getting  very  important 
information  frequent,"  he  says,  "Without  any  trouble 
to  yourself,"  he  says,  "and  if  you  should  care  to  do 
so  we  might  undertake  joint  operations  and  we  would 
be  pleased  to  give  you  a  share  in  the  result,"  he  says, 
"without  cost  or  risk  to  yourself." 

"You  mean  that  I  should  tell  you  anything  that 
I  hear  Mr.  Carter  say?"  I  says. 

"To  put  it  bluntly,  yes,"  he  says.  Then  seeing  that 
I  looked  surprised,  he  added: 

"You  do  not  have  to  decide  now"  he  says.  "Think 
it  over.  I  am  confident  it  would  be  well  worth  your 
while,"  he  says.  "I  am  glad  to  have  met  you!"  and 
he  held  out  his  hand  which  I  am  ashamed  to  say  I 
took.  I  went  back  to  the  front  room  and  the  crowd 
there  was  getting  bigger  and  bigger  every  minute  and 
it  seemed  as  if  every  young  man  I  had  ever  seen  was 
in  there  buying  "T.  T."  which  was  now  up  in  the 
seventies.  There  was  a  sort  of  hush  when  I  came 
in  and  then  the  noise  got  louder  and  louder,  and  as 
I  had  begun  to  feel  very  awkward  and  that  I  had 

73 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

made  a  mistake  and  done  harm  to  Mr.  Carter,  I  put 
on  my  hat  and  went  out. 

Just  as  I  reached  the  front  of  the  steps  I  ran  plump 
into  Mr.  Amos  who  was  coming  out  of  the  Century 
Club.     There  was  nothing  to  do  so  I  says: 

"Good-morning."     And  he  says : 

"Good-morning,  Ridges,"  very  much  surprised. 
Then  he  looks  up  at  the  door  and  sees  the  sign 
"Williams  &  Walker"  and  looks  very  sharp  at  me 
and  says: 

"Well,"  says  he,  "Wot  were  you  doing  in  that  bucket 
shop  ?"  he  says. 

"Bucket  shop?"  says  I  feeling  very  guilty. 

"Yes,  bucket  shop,"  says  he.  "Wot  business  have 
you  in  there.     You  a  respectable  butler,"  he  says. 

Well  you  may  be  sure  I  was  embarrassed  and  I 
hardly  knew  wot  to  do,  but  I  says  perfectly  frank: 

"I  have  been  buying  a  hundred  shares  of  ^Toledo 
Tube'  "  I  says. 

"O,  Ridges!"  he  says.     "Et  tu  Brute!" 

"Wot  is  that?"  I  says. 

"It  is  too  brutal!"  he  says  and  then  he  laughs. 

"My  dear  old  Ridges,"  he  says,  "why  do  you  throw 
away  your  money  like  that?"  he  says. 

"I  have  not  thrown  it  away,"  I  says,  "I  have  made 
nearly  two  thousand  dollars  already,"  I  says. 

He  looked  at  me  in  rather  a  queer  way  and  I  would 
have  given  the  money  not  to  have  had  him  see  me, 

74 


.  GETTING  IN  ON  "THE  GROUND  FLOOR" 

but  then  his  look  changed  and  he  took  me  by  the  arm 
and  led  me  along  to  where  there  was  a  cafe.  So  we 
went  and  sat  down  at  a  little  table  and  Mr.  Amos 
ordered  two  bottles  of  beer  and  asked  me  to  tell  him 
all  about  it,  and  I  told  him. 

"Dear  me!"  he  says,  "To  think  that  you  like  the 
others  should  have  been  bitten  by  the  Tarantula  of 
Wall  Street.  Now,  are  you  going  to  give  information 
to  these  pirates?"  he  says. 

"Do  you  think  it  would  be  right,  sir?"  I  asks. 

"Do  you,  Ridges?"  he  replies. 

"Certainly  not,"  I  says.  "Why  do  you  ask  me?" 
I  says. 

Then  a  smile  came  over  his  face  and  he  says,  "I 
beg  your  pardon.  Ridges!  I  always  knew  you  were 
a  gentleman." 

Then  he  hesitated. 

"The  first  thing  is  for  you  to  get  your  money  out 
as  fast  as  you  can,"  he  says.  "You  had  better  go 
right  back  and  sell  your  stock.  I  will  wait  for  you 
and  make  sure  that  the  wolves  do  not  tear  you  to 
pieces,"  he  says. 

So  we  walked  back  and  I  went  in  and  everybody 
wanted  to  know  if  I  had  heard  anything  new,  but 
I  said  no  I  simply  thought  I  would  make  sure  of  my 
profits. 

"Better  not,"  says  Mr.  Walker.  "Why  with  your 
profits  you  can  carry  five  hundred  shares  and  make 

75 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

a  thousand  dollars  every  time  *T.  T.'  goes  up  two 
points." 

Well  for  a  minute  I  wanted  to  do  it. 

"Why  not  buy  four  hundred  shares  more?"  says 
he.  *'A11  you  will  have  to  do  is  to  leave  your  five 
hundred  dollars.  Think  of  it!  Five  hundred  shares 
when  you  started  with  five  hundred  dollars  only  two 
hours  ago!" 

But  I  thought  of  Mr.  Amos  and  I  had  a  feeling  that 
it  was  not  right  to  make  so  much  money  so  quick 
anyhow,  and  the  cigars  had  made  my  head  ache  and 
I  says: 

**No,  a  bird  in  the  hand  is  worth  two  in  the  bush. 
You  can  sell  my  hundred  shares." 

So  Mr.  Williams  sold  them  at  72  and  gave  me  a 
cheque  for  $1975  and  my  500  dollars  back  which  he 
had  put  in  his  pocket.  Just  then  a  young  gentleman 
named  Potts  who  was  standing  by  the  glass  beehive 
says: 

"Wot's  this!  Look  here  boys,  there  is  something 
the  matter  with  T.  T.'  " 

They  all  made  a  rush  for  the  ribbing  and  he  began 
to  shout : 

"Ten  thousand  at  71 1  Five  thousand  at  70%  !  Ten 
thousand  at  70}^,  500  at  a  quarter,  one  thousand  at  70 !" 

"Let  me  get  at  that  telephone !"  yells  Mr.  Williams. 
"Here  Central  give  me   1205   Broadway!" 

"Ten  thousand  at  69!"  exclaims  Mr.  Potts.     "Say 

76 


GETTING  IN  ON  "THE  GROUND  FLOOR'' 

something  is  happening  down  there  all  right — ^whew! 
Ten  thousand  at  (^yYz'  This  was  too  much  for  me! 
I'm  going  to  get  out.  Williams  sell  me  500  at  the 
market !" 

"Sell  me  a  thousand!"  says  another. 

"And  my  five  thousand!"  cries  another,  very  pale. 

"Now  keep  your  shirt  on!"  growls  Mr.  Williams. 
"I'm  giving  the  orders  as  fast  as  I  can,  but  some 
of  you  fellers  ought  to  hang  on.  Why  we  are  just 
helping  to  break  the  market !" 

"All  we  want  is  our  money!"   shouts  Potts. 

"I  believe  we've  been  sold  out!"  says  Walker. 

"Fake  information!"  cries  Potts.  "Where  is  this 
man  that  told  you  about  it?" 

"Yes,"  yells  Walker.  "Here  you,  is  this  a  put  up 
game?" 

Well  I  did  not  know  wot  it  all  meant  but  they  seemed 
so  shirty  I  thought  I  had  better  get  out  rapid  which 
I  did.  Mr.  Amos  was  waiting  on  the  corner  and  when 
I  told  him  about  it  he  laughed  until  he  cried. 

"You're  a  lucky  dog,  Ridges!"  he  says.  "Why, 
dcai't  you  suppose  I  would  have  been  rich  years  ago 
if  tips  would  have  done  it!" 

"Why,  wot  do  you  mean?"  I  says.  "Don't  you 
think  T.  T.'  is  a  good  stock?" 

"I  don't  know  and  I  don't  care,"  he  says. 

"But  Mr.  O'Connor "  I  says. 

77 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

"O'Connor !"  he  says,  "O'Connor !  I  wouldn't  trust 
him  with  a  cracked  nickel,"  he  says.  I 

Well  I  was  that  shocked  I  couldn't  speak  for  a 
whole  minute.     Finally  I  says : 

"But  why  does  Mr.  Carter  have  him  to  dinner, 
then?"  I 

"Give  it  up,"  he  says.     "Perhaps  he  likes  him.'* 

By  that  time  we  were  at  the  bank  and  Mr.  Amos 
went  in  with  me  while  I  deposited  my  cheque  for  $1975, 
and  as  he  knew  the  dark  he  asked  him  wot  was  the 
news  and  the  dark  said  O  nothing,  except  there  was 
tremendous  dealings  in  Toledo  Tube  which  jumped 
from  47  to  72  and  then  dropped  way  down  to  twenty- 
something.  I 

"No  one  knows  wot  to  make  of  it,"  he  says. 

So  I  says  good-bye  to  Mr.  Amos  and  feeling  harf 
ashamed  and  harf  glad  and  terrible  excited  I  went 
back  to  the  house  and  attended  to  setting  the  table 
for  lunch  and  while  I  was  in  the  dining  room  Miss 
Patricia  asked  me  to  telephone  for  some  flowers.  Now 
Mr.  Carter  has  an  extension  in  his  room  and  can 
call  up  Central  hisself  and  when  I  took  down  the  re- 
ceiver he  was  talking  to  some  one  at  the  other  end  and 
I  heard  him  say: 

"Get  rid  of  it?  I  should  say  we  did!  Some  fool 
began  to  buy  at  ten  o'clock  and  we  unloaded  all  the 
way  up  to  sixty-nine.  Even  then  it  kept  on  moving 
up  and  I'm  surprised  it  didn't  go  to  par." 

78 


GETTING  IN  ON  "THE  GROUND  FLOOR" 

The  man  on  the  other  end  said  that  was  great 
and  he  congratulated  him  to  be  sure  and  they  both 
said  "so-long  and  see  you  to-morrow,"  and  hung  up. 
Then  I  ordered  the  flowers  and  when  lunch  was  served 
you  could  see  something  wonderful  had  occurred  be- 
cause Miss  Harriet  was  in  great  spirits  and  said  how 
she  was  going  to  give  another  ball  and  when  James 
dropped  the  Dresden  china  fruit  plate  that  cost  so  much 
Mr.  Carter  just  laughed  and  said  it  was  all  right  and 
to  order  harf  a  dozen  more,  and  arfter  lunch  he  gave 
me  ten  dollars  and  says  that  the  dinner  last  night  was 
fine  and  served  beautiful. 

All  that  afternoon  I  was  in  a  state  of  excitement 
and  nothing  I  ate  seemed  to  agree  with  me  which  is 
very  unusual,  but  there  was  no  one  to  talk  to  or  to 
tell  about  it  and  I  began  to  feel  lonely  and  sort  of 
miserable.  I  had  made  two  thousand  dollars  but  I 
felt  as  if  I  had  stolen  something  and  just  to  cheer 
myself  up  I  asked  Eliza  to  go  to  the  theatre  with  me, 
for  the  family  was  going  out  to  Sherry's  to  have  wot 
Mr.  Carter  calls  a  "bust."  But  I  was  so  glum  that 
Eliza  kept  asking  me  wot  was  the  matter  and  saying 
I  had  better  take  some  Cod  Liver  Oil  and  go  to  bed, 
but  it  was  a  very  funny  play  and  I  got  to  laughing 
and  forgot  all  about  the  money  for  there  was  a  fellow 
on  the  stage  the  rummiest  looking  guy  you  ever  saw 
and  he  would  start  and  fall  all  over  the  table  and  light 

79 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

on  his  head  and  not  mind  it  at  all,  and  then  he  would 
stand  on  a  chair  and  fall  orf  and  gets  his  legs  caught 
in  the  chair's  legs  until  you  would  have  died  laughing. 
Well,  I  began  to  feel  better  and  when  that  was  over 
the  page  came  out  with  a  sign  "Williams  &  Walker." 

"My  eye!"  I  says  under  my  breath. 

And  Eliza  says,  "Wot  is  it?     Have  you  got  a  pain?" 

And  I  says,  no  it  is  nothing  at  all,  and  not  to  mind 
me.  But  it  did  seem  queer  that  they  should  have 
that  name  and  I  thought  maybe  I  was  a  little  orf  my 
head,  and  in  a  minute  the  curtain  went  up  and  wot 
should  it  be  but  two  niggers  who  sang  and  played 
most  beautiful.  It  was  enough  to  make  you  cry  and 
Eliza  did  cry  a  little,  so  I  took  hold  of  her  hand  and 
she  did  not  draw  it  away  and  I  felt  more  like  myself. 

In  the  intermission  there  was  a  tired  looking  man 
just  in  front  that  took  out  and  read  a  newspaper  with 
a  bald  head  and  right  at  the  top  was  a  big  head  line : 

BIG  SLUMP  IN  "T.  T." 

Small  Panic  on  Stock  Exchange 

Williams  &  Walker  Suspend 

A  sort  of  chill  ran  over  me  and  I  says: 

"I  beg  pardon,  sir,  would  you  mind  letting  me  glance 

at  that  a  minute?" 

So  he  says  no,  only  to  let  him  have  it  back.     And 

I  took  it  and  read : 

80 


GETTING  IN  ON  "THE  GROUND  FLOOR" 

Among  those  who  suffered  was  the  firm  of  Williams  & 
Walker,  who  do  an  uptown  business  in  the  neighborhood 
of  the  Century  and  other  clubs.  Acting  on  what  they  sup- 
posed was  reliable  information  the  firm  plunged  heavily  and 
induced  many  of  their  customers  to  do  the  same.  When  the 
bottom  dropped  out  of  the  market  they  were  many  thousand 
shares  long  of  the  stock  and  were  obliged  to  announce  their 
suspension  at  the  close  of  the  day.  Their  liabilities  are  very 
large  and  their  assets  are  said  to  be  practically  nothing. 

Then  I  realized  how  I  was  the  unconscious  instru- 
ment of  Providence  in  putting  a  stop  to  such  gambling 
operations  and  how  my  check  was  worthless.  But 
for  all  that  I  had  lost  the  two  thousand  dollars  I  felt 
happier  than  I  had  all  that  day,  and  I  gave  the  man 
back  his  paper  and  told  Eliza  all  about  it,  but  I  am 
sure  she  was  glad  about  the  money  for  she  says: 

"Peter,  I'm  glad  they  failed!" 

And  I  says  to  myself: 

"Ridges,"  I  says,  "high  finance  is  not  for  you!" 


8z 


ON  MONEY  AND  HAPPINESS 

Being  a  plain  serving  man  I  make  no  especial  pre- 
tensions to  morality  but  do  my  duty  in  that  state  of 
life  it  has  pleased  God  to  call  me  simple  as  I  see  it,  my 
genius  lying  more  particular  in  the  way  of  literature. 
In  things  spiritual  I  bow  to  my  pastors  and  masters, 
but  in  the  things  of  this  world  I  claim  to  have  both 
experience  and  observation  and  I  believe  if  some  day 
I  could  have  a  good  talk  with  Mrs.  Carter  I  could 
teach  her  something.  I  have  pondered  oft  on  the 
subject  of  how  much  pleasure  she  and  the  people  round 
her  really  get  out  of  life. 

When  you  come  down  to  it  there  are  only  three 
kinds  of  pleasure,  as  must  appear  to  everybody.  In 
the  first  place  eating  is  one  kind  of  pleasure,  and  sit- 
ting down  arfter  you  have  been  standing  up  is  an- 
other (and  to  go  to  bed  arfter  a  hard  day's  work  is 
the  same  sort),  and  to  say  a  kind  word  to  a  fellow 
servant  or  help  him  along  is  a  third.  Now  these  is 
all  different  kinds  of  pleasure.  In  the  first  you  get 
something;  in  the  last  you  give  something;  and  in  the 
second  you  just  get  relief.     If  you  try  you  can  put 

82 


ON  MONEY  AND  HAPPINESS 

every  kind  of  pleasure  there  is  into  one  of  these  three 
classes,  and  by  way  of  keeping  cheerful  I  have  often 
compared  my  own  lot  in  life  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Carter's  on  just  this  basis. 

For  example,  rest.  Now  sleep  is  a  pleasure  and  so 
is  sitting  down  and  doing  nothing  and  I  am  glad 
enough  to  rest  my  back  against  the  step  ladder  in  the 
pantry  arfter  dinner,  and  I  drop  orf  to  sleep  as  soon 
as  I  get  into  bed,  to  say  nothing  of  snoring  which 
James  accuses  me  of  and  which  I  say  is  a  slander  but 
cannot  prove  it.  But  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carter  never 
want  to  sit  down  and  if  they  set  for  any  length  of 
time  is  nervous  and  especial  Miss  Harriet.  She  is 
always  figetting  around  and  jumping  up  and  down 
and  hopping  orf  somewhere  just  because  she  never  does 
anything  or  takes  any  exercise,  and  so  is  her  mother 
although  more  fat.  And  none  of  them  can  sleep,  for 
they  are  always  complaining  about  wot  miserable  nights 
they  have  had.  And,  although  Mr.  Carter  lies  out  on 
his  sofa  arfter  dinner  and  sighs  contented  as  he  smokes 
his  big  black  Havana  I  know  it  is  only  because  he 
thinks  it  is  proper  and  the  right  time  to  smoke  and 
sigh,  and  he  doesn't  begin  to  enjoy  it  as  I  do  my 
pipe  in  the  men's  sitting  room.  And  it  is  the  same 
way  with  holidays  and  when  one  has  any  time  orf,  for 
on  such  occasions  a  serving  man  is  happy  to  do  nothing. 

One  of  the  chief  things  that  strikes  me  about  the 
way  rich  people  in  America  try  to  enjoy  themselves 

83 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

is  the  trouble  they  go  to  to  do  it.  Now  you  would 
think  if  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carter  really  liked  music  they 
would  go  to  concerts  and  the  opera  when  they  felt  like 
it,  but  instead  they  buy  a  box  for  an  enormous  amount 
of  money  and  go  to  all  the  operas  that  come  on  fash- 
ionable nights  whether  they  like  them  or  not.  They 
do  not  enjoy  music  and  it  is  very  hard  for  both  of 
them  to  pronounce  the  names  of  the  singers  with  the 
right  accent,  and  they  are  always  taking  Scotty  for 
Caruso,  and  for  a  long  time  Mrs.  Carter  thought 
Cavalery  was  a  man.  I  have  heard  Mr.  Amos  when 
they  were  alone  for  dinner  go  on  talking  a  whole  lot 
of  rubbish  and  making  up  all  sorts  of  queer  names  and 
pretending  they  was  singers  and  Mrs.  Carter  taking 
it  all  in  serious  until  he  told  her,  and  then  she  laughed 
as  hard  as  anybody.  There  is  one  thing  I  like  about 
her  and  that  is  she  enjoys  a  joke  on  herself  as  much 
as  anybody. 

It  is  the  great  cross  of  Mrs.  Carter's  life  trying  to 
dispose  of  her  box  the  nights  she  can't  go,  for  of 
course  she  wants  fashionable  people  to  sit  in  it  when 
she  isn't  there  and  the  fashionable  people  almost  al- 
ways are  engaged.  I  have  known  her  to  send  the 
tickets  to  her  box  to  seventeen  different  families  be- 
fore she  could  get  anyone  to  take  it,  and  each  time 
when  it  came  back  with  a  polite  note  you  could  have 
thought  she  would  die,  and  she  can  never  get  anybody 
to  take  it  on  Saturday  nights. 

84 


ON  MONEY  AND  HAPPINESS 

From  all  I  can  see  the  opera  is  a  pretty  sad  affair 
an)rway.  Mr.  Amos  goes  almost  every  night  but  he 
loves  music  and  knows  almost  all  of  the  operas  by 
heart,  so  he  is  always  glad  to  sit  with  Mrs.  Carter  and 
she  gets  him  to  tell  her  wot  it  is  all  about.  Wot  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Carter  really  like  are  the  comic  operas,  and 
they  are  glad  when  the  spring  comes  and  it  is  proper 
for  them  to  go.  Mrs.  Carter  is  always  repeating  the 
jokes  she  hears  there  and  she  thinks  Mr.  Weber  and 
Mr.  Fields  are  the  funniest  men  she  ever  saw.  She 
says  it  makes  her  "full  of  laugh."  So  I  think  it  is 
perfectly  fair  to  count  out  entirely  owning  a  opera  box 
as  a  method  of  enjoying  one's  self  except  in  so  far 
as  it  is  a  satisfaction  to  have  your  name  printed  on 
the  program. 

Now  as  for  dinner  parties  I  know  for  a  fact  that 
Mrs.  Carter  gets  no  fun  out  of  them  at  all.  It  is 
one  thing  to  have  a  big  party  of  distinguished  and 
jolly  people  like  Lord  Craven  used  to  have  who  all 
know  one  another  and  make  a  lark  of  it  and  it  is 
quite  another  to  ask  a  whole  lot  of  people  you  only 
know  a  very  little  and  are  trying  to  know  better  than 
they  want  you  to.  All  of  Mrs.  Carter's  dinners  cost 
a  heap  of  money  and  the  table  is  always  banked  up 
with  orchids  and  the  service  is  all  gold  plate,  but  they 
are  always  solemn  like  a  funeral  and  if  any  one  laughed 
out  loud  everybody  would  be  shocked.  Those  are  the 
times  Mrs.  Carter  is  so  stiff  and  correct  that  she  acts 

85 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

as  if  It  was  a  sin  to  cough  and  Mr.  Amos  is  the  only 
one  who  is  not  afraid  of  her.  I  remember  one  time  we 
had  ouvrers  o  pom  which  is  eggs  poached  inside  of 
baked  potatoes  that  has  had  the  inside  taken  out  and 
fixed  up  again  and  put  back,  and  one  young  gentleman 
thought  he  would  be  funny  and  says  to  Mrs.  Carter: 

"Mrs.  Carter,  it  looks  as  if  your  chickens  had  got  into 
the  potato  patch,"  he  says. 

And  everybody  sort  of  looked  orrified  and  Mrs. 
Carter  seemed  very  much  embarrassed  and  says :  "Dear 
me,"  she  says,  "I  really  do  not  bother  myself  with 
such  matters,"  she  says,  *'but  my  impression  is  that 
at  The  Beeches  the  hen  house  is  a  long  way  from  the 
garden." 

So  the  young  man  felt  very  much  humiliated.  Now 
the  hideous  mockery  of  the  dinners  is  that  Mrs.  Carter 
has  such  a  bad  digestion  that  she  cannot  eat  any  of 
them,  so  it  is  all  lost  so  far  as  she  is  concerned  and 
Miss  Harriet  as  well,  for  most  wot  they  eat  is  hot 
water  and  pepsin  pills,  and  both  of  em  always  have  a 
headache  next  day  on  account  of  the  strain  of  having 
to  be  agreeable  and  talk  so  loud  and  the  light  shining 
in  their  eyes.  And  when  they  go  out  to  dinner  it  is 
exactly  the  same  way,  and  of  course  an  afternoon  tea 
or  reception  is  a  thousand  times  worse.  Sometimes 
Mrs.  Carter  says  she  wishes  she  was  back  in  Brooklyn, 
and  Miss  Harriet  will  shudder  and  exclaim  "O  mother, 
I  wish  you  wouldn't  say  such  things !" 

86 


ON  MONEY  AND  HAPPINESS 

The  steam  yacht  is  worst  of  all,  for  everybody  but 
Miss  Patricia  and  Master  Willie  are  always  seasick,  and 
if  they  go  abroad  they  always  take  one  of  the  big 
ocean  liners  and  send  the  Leviathian  across  to  meet 
them.  But  they  only  stay  a  little  while  and  come  right 
back  so  as  to  be  on  hand  for  the  season  at  Newport. 
Most  of  the  time  the  yacht  is  just  lying  around  in  the 
harbor  and  Mr.  Carter  is  always  worrying  hisself  to 
death  over  the  expense. 

Now  I  have  no  prospect  of  owning  a  big  house  or 
a  yacht  or  a  box  at  the  opera  or  having  servants  to 
wait  on  me,  so  that  I  am  not  discontented  because  I 
have  not  got  them,  and  all  I  want  is  to  lay  aside 
enough  so  I  can  buy  a  publick-house  somewhere  near 
Craven  Hall  and  settle  down  for  my  old  age  with  Aunt 
Jane.  So  I  am  very  happy  because  I  have  saved 
enough  already  so  that  I  can  do  so  in  five  or  six  years 
more.  Mr.  Amos  and  I  are  agreed  on  this,  for  we 
have  talked  it  over  that  a  man's  happyness  depends 
on  how  far  he  has  wot  he  wants.  Now  the  less 
you  want  the  more  chance  there  is  of  having  it  and 
so  the  more  likely  you  are  to  be  happy. 

There  is  a  little  cripple  boy  who  lives  in  the  opposite 
house  and  he  has  never  been  able  to  set  his  foot  on 
the  ground,  but  when  he  goes  out  to  drive  the  foot- 
man has  to  carry  him  out.  All  the  rest  of  the  time 
he  sits  by  the  window  in  his  father's  library  and 
watches  the  people  passing  up  and  down,  and  he  is 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

so  thin  and  pale  it  is  enough  to  make  your  heart 
ache.  Well,  Miss  Patricia  never  goes  out  of  the  house 
that  she  does  not  wave  her  hand  to  him  (although  she 
has  never  met  him)  and  he  watches  for  her  every 
day  and  smiles  and  waves  back  and  is  always  looking 
for  her.  And  one  day  I  was  at  the  window  and  I 
felt  so  sorry  for  him  I  sort  of  waved  too  and  he  nodded 
right  back  and  smiled,  and  now  I  know  him  very  well. 
It  does  not  cost  anything  to  smile  at  a  little  sick  boy 
but  every  time  I  do  when  I  go  back  to  work  I  feel 
like  singing.  And  he  is  such  a  patient  little  chap  that 
it  does  you  good  just  to  see  him  sitting  there,  for  if 
he  can  be  cheerful  when  he  is  all  hunched  up  like  that 
you  would  think  anybody  else  would  be  ashamed  not 
to  be  when  they  have  everything  in  the  world  like 
Miss  Harriet. 

Most  of  the  folks  who  is  dissatisfied  is  fools  or 
worse,  and  there  was  a  fellow  once  who  got  a  job 
as  a  second  man  in  our  house  and  stayed  on  for  a 
while  that  had  all  kinds  of  strange  ideas.  He  was 
all  right  until  he  got  talking  and  then  he  was  enough 
to  drive  you  to  drink.  Well,  one  day  he  didn't  polish 
the  teapot  to  suit  and  I  says  to  him : 

"How  do  you  expect  to  keep  a  place  if  you  don't 
do  your  work  any  better  than  that?"  I  says. 

So  he  sets  down  the  teapot  and  smiles  quite  superior 
and  says : 

"I  should  have  told  you  before,  Ridges,"  he  says, 

88 


ON  MONEY  AND  HAPPINESS 

"but  this  is  as  good  a  time  as  any,  that  I  am  not  wot 
I  seem,'*  he  says.  "I  am  not  a  servant,  but  a  student 
of  social  conditions  making  a  independent  investiga- 
tion," and  he  gave  me  a  look  as  if  he  expected  me  to 
fall  flat. 

Well,  I  didn't  know  who  or  wot  he  was  and  I 
cared  less,  so  I  says : 

"Wot  has  that  got  to  do  with  your  leaving  finger 
marks  on  the  teapot  ?"  I  says.  "That  is  wot  you  are 
paid  for,"  I  says. 

And  he  smiles  and  says: 

"You  do  not  understand,"  he  says,  "Fm  a  sociolo- 
gist," he  says,  says  he,  "and  I  am  going  to  write  this 
all  up  in  a  book  and  expose  this  orful  condition  of 
things,"  he  says. 

"Wot  rot  are  you  talking?"  I  says.  "Wot  orful 
condition  have  you  found?"  I  says. 

"Why,  mine  and  yours  and  everybody  else,"  he 
says.  "Here  we  are  obliged  to  slave  for  a  living  wage 
amid  unsanitary  and  immoral  surroundings,  while  those 
who  enjoy  the  fruits  of  our  labor  are  rioting  in  lug- 
sury,  dissipation  and  drunkenness."  He  waved  his 
hand  and  stood  up  while  I  backed  over  toward  the  sink. 

"The  rich  is  getting  richer,"  he  says,  "and  the  poor 
is  getting  poorer,"  he  says. 

"Do  you  think  so?"  I  interrupts.  "Well  my  wages 
is  four  sov.  a  month  more  than  they  were  ten  years 
ago  and  three  times  wot  they  was  In  England,"  I  says. 

89 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

"You  don't  understand,"  he  says,  getting  all  hupset 
in  his  speech.  "Why  should  one  man  ride  in  his 
coach,"  he  says,  "and  have  his  box  at  the  opera  and 
his  yacht,"  he  says,  "and  another  have  to  clean  the 
dishes?"  he  says.  "It  is  a  fundamental  error  in  the 
constitution  of  society,"  he  says. 

"I  fancy  it's  because  that  other  man  is  clever  enough 
or  lucky  enough  to  make  the  money,"  I  says. 

"Nonsense,"  he  replies.  "Look  at  these  people  for 
whom  you  work — observe  how  happy  they  are !  How 
they  eat,  drink  and  make  merry,  while  you  are  bound 
down  to  days  of  misery.  Their  time  is  filled  with 
feasting  and  pleasure  while  you  are  mingling  your 
tears  with  those  of  your  fellow  bondsmen." 

"Well,"  I  says,  "the  tears  I  shed  wouldn't  wet  a 
postage  stamp,  and  I  haven't  seen  any  one  else  shed- 
ding tears  lately,"  I  says.  "Everybody  seems  pretty 
contented  here.  Tha  only  miserable  people  in  the 
house,"  I  says,  "are  the  people  we  are  working  for 
and  that  is  their  own  fault,"  I  says.  "I'm  perfectly 
satisfied,"  I  says. 

He  gave  me  a  look  of  disgust. 

"Satisfied !"  he  cries.  "Satisfied  like  the  dumb  brute 
that  does  not  know  his  own  wretched  lot,"  he  says. 
"Rise  up !    Be  a  man !    Cast  off  your  shackles  and " 

"Look  here,"  I  says,  trying  to  calm  him,  "Wot  is 
the  matter  with  you?    Wot  is  it  you  want?"  I  says. 

"Want!"  he  says,  "I  want  to  remove  the  inequality 

90 


ON  MONEY  AND  HAPPINESS 

and  injustice  in  the  world.  I  want  the  happyness 
fairly  distributed,"  he  says. 

''But  I  am  happier  than  Mrs.  Carter  now,"  I  says, 
"I  don't  want  her  money." 

"O,"  he  says,  "you  are  a  yokel,"  he  says.  "It  is 
their  power,"  he  says.  "It  should  be  wrenched  from 
them." 

"I  don't  want  any  of  their  power,"  I  says. 

"You  are  a  bond  slave  to  these  rich,"  he  cries. 

"Well,"  I  says,  losing  patience,  "if  you  don't  like 
your  job  go  and  get  one  at  the  same  wages  elsewhere 
that  you  like  any  better." 

"That  is  not  the  point,"  he  says.  "The  good  things 
of  life  are  not  equally  divided,"  he  says. 

"Why  not?"  I  says.  "Wot  are  they?  Good  health, 
wholesome  food,  peaceful  rest,  and  enough  work  to 
keep  you  out  of  mischief.  I  admit  you  haven't  got 
your  share  of  that,"  I  says.  "I  wouldn't  change  with 
any  man,  least  of  all  a  miserable  millionaire." 

"Ah!"  he  says,  ignoring  my  argumentum.  "The 
millionaires!  These  people  for  whom  you  slave  are 
vulgar  hupstarts,  cheap  parvenoos,  unworthy  to  eat 
at  the  same  table  with  honest  men!" 

"Now  see  here,"  I  says,  getting  hot.  "Keep  your 
hair  on,"  I  says,  "and  don't  call  names,  for  while  you 
are  taking  their  money  and  eating  their  bread  you  had 
better  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head!" 

"You  don't  understand,"  he  says,  quite  red,  "I'm 

91 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

not  a  servant.  I  am  Alan  Adair,  the  sociologist  and 
novelist  wot  disclosed  the  frightful  conditions  existing 
in  the  candy  trade,"  he  says. 

"I  don't  care  who  you  are  when  you  are  at  home  or 
in  quod,"  I  says.  "Or  how  many  books  you  have 
written.  If  you  can't  clean  a  teapot  any  better  than 
that,"  I  says,  "you  had  better  go  back  to  writing," 
and  I  sticks  it  into  his  hands.  "Now  you  can  sit  down 
and  rub  orf  those  finger  marks  or  you  can  go  to  the 
housekeeper  and  get  your  time  and  clear  out,"  I  says. 

Well,  he  was  that  shirty  he  threw  the  cloth  on  the 
floor,  and  went  hupstairs  and  got  his  bag  and  left,  and 
that  was  the  last  time  I  ever  saw  him,  but  I  heard 
arfter wards  he  wrote  a  story  telling  how  badly  under- 
paid servants  was,  and  in  wot  orful  unhealthy  condi- 
tions they  had  to  work,  and  how  stoopid  and  immoral 
they  all  were.  But  the  truth  is  they  are  better  paid 
and  keep  in  better  health  than  any  other  working 
people  I  know,  and  as  for  their  being  stoopid — well — 
of  course  there  are  exceptions. 

Now  as  far  as  I  can  make  out  giving  a  ball  is  the 
ultimatum  bonum  of  being  rich  and  is  accepted  as 
being  the  greatest  pleasure  one  can  give  one's  self  or 
others  in  society.  So  if  you  want  to  know  just  how 
much  real  pleasure  or  happyness  money  gives  to  people 
the  way  lo  do  13  >  ;  tal  :  one  of  the  things  riches  can 
bring  and  annylize  it  and  find  out.  A  ball  costs  more, 
takes  more  getting  ready  and  is  more  talked  about  than 

92 


ON  MONEY  AND  HAPPINESS 

anything,  so  it  is  fair  to  take  it  as  a  sample.  Now 
how  much  real  pleasure  does  it  give  to  anybody? 

The  last  ball  Mrs.  Carter  gave  cost  over  $5000  for 
flowers  and  the  walls  was  entirely  covered  with  roses 
and  there  were  summer  houses  in  each  corner  of  the 
room,  and  I  opened  personal  nineteen  cases  of  cham- 
pagne. Wot  the  favors  cost  I  hate  to  think  of,  and 
when  it  is  all  over  wot  is  there  left  but  Mrs.  Carter  and 
Miss  Harriet  wondering  whether  Mrs.  So-and-So 
really  was  sick  and  couldn't  come  or  just  nasty  and 
whether  it  really  was  a  success  or  not.  Generally  the 
best  Miss  Harriet  can  say  is  that  she  had  plenty  of 
partners  (which  ought  to  be  the  case  in  her  own  house) 
and  to  ask  wot  any  man  can  see  in  that  Benson  girl 
anyhow.  She  is  always  comparing  the  time  she  has 
just  had  with  the  time  some  other  girl  has  had  and 
criticising  people,  and  I  don't  see  why  if  she  does  not 
like  them  she  pays  out  her  mother's  money  to  enter- 
tain them.  And  next  day  everybody  is  cross  except 
Miss  Patricia  who  is  out  in  the  Park  riding  her  horse 
just  as  early  as  usual  and  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

Now  Mrs.  Carter's  balls  is  the  principal  thing  she 
does  to  have  a  good  time.  But  if  anything  is  certain 
in  this  life  it  is  that  she  has  a  miserable  time  at  her 
own  balls.  So  far  as  I  can  see  out  of  the  five  or  six 
hundred  people  who  come  about  twenty  really  enjoy 
themselves  and  it  costs,  I  have  heard  Mr.  Carter  say, 
between  12  and  $15,000  before  it  is  over,  and  I  should 

93 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY  / 

say  that  the  average  woman  who  goes  to  a  ball  in  New 
York  has  a  pretty  anxious  and  unpleasant  time  and  a 
headache  next  day.     But  if  they  want  to  go  it  is  none 
of  my  business.     Giving  balls  may  be  a  recognized 
form  of  pleasure  but  it  is  in  most  cases  a  good  deal 
more  like  agony.    The  only  ones  who  are  sure  to  have 
a  good  time  are  the  young  men  who  don't  dance  unless 
they  feel  like  it  and  who  spend  the  rest  of  the  time 
drinking  champagne  and  smoking  in  the  dressing  room. 
And 'how  they  roast  Mrs.  Carter  and  Miss  Harriet! 
My  eye !    It  would  make  them  want  to  go  into  a  mon- 
astery if  they  heard  it!     The  moral  of  which  all  is 
that  there  are  a  lot  of  kinds  of  pleasure  that  are  really 
not  pleasure  at  all  but  only  expense  and  worry.    I  fancy 
the  only  reason  Mrs.  Carter  wants  to  give  balls  is  be- 
cause other  swell  ladies  give  them  and  not  because  she 
really  likes  to.    One  of  the  first  rules  of  having  a  good 
time  is  not  to  try  to  enjoy  yourself  doing  something 
you  don't  like  or  are  not  cut  out  for.     Mrs.  Carter  is 
more  cut  out  for  wearing  a  gingham  apron  and  mak- 
ing jam. 

Whenever  I  go  to  a  ball,  which  is  but  seldom,  I  and 
the  men  and  girls  go  to  dance  and  we  pay  the  small 
price  of  a  ticket  and  dance  until  we  are  tired  of  it  and 
go  home  and  that  is  the  end  of  it,  but  when  Mrs.  Carter 
gives  a  ball  there  is  no  end  to  it  at  all,  for  some  people 
decline  the  invitation  and  then  you  would  think  Mrs. 
Carter  would  like  to  commit  murder  and  Miss  Harriet 

94 


ON  MONEY  AND  HAPPINESS 

arson.  Then  there  is  the  greatest  excitement  trying 
to  get  the  right  gentleman  to  lead  the  cotillion,  for  if 
you  do  not  get  the  right  one  in  New  York  it  is  a  terri- 
ble fo  par,  and  may  be  he  is  sick  and  don't  want  to 
and  anyhow  the  anxiety  is  orful.  Well,  then  arfter 
all  the  money  is  spent  and  everything  is  ready  there  is 
the  fear  lest  it  will  not  go  orf  with  just  the  right  kind 
of  a  swing  and  Mrs.  Carter  is  driving  everybody  to 
death  till  past  twelve  o'clock  until  it  gets  fully  started. 
If  you  have  the  idea  that  people  go  to  balls  in  New 
York  to  have  a  good  time  you  would  only  have  to  go 
once  to  change  your  mind.  In  the  first  place  nothing 
in  the  world  is  dismaller  than  a  house  just  before  a 
ball  is  going  to  be  given  in  it.  All  the  lights  has  been 
lit  ever  since  eight  o'clock  and  the  carpet  has  been 
laying  out  across  the  sidewalk  and  the  wind  roaring 
up  through  the  shaking  old  awning  every  time  you 
go  to  answer  the  front  door.  The  family  scuttles 
through  their  dinner  to  have  a  hairdresser  do  their 
hair  and  the  florists'  men  are  finishing  up  the  last 
touches  in  the  ballroom.  There  are  flowers  every- 
where but  everybody  looks  so  doleful  it  might  as  well 
be  a  funeral  if  you  did  not  know  different.  Then 
about  ten  o'clock  the  band  arrives  and  sits  around  and 
acts  bored  and  as  if  they  wanted  to  smoke,  and  the 
extra  hired  footmen  comes  and  loiters  in  the  front  hall. 
Everybody  has  been  asked  for  ten  o'clock  and  no  one 
is  expected  until  twelve  but  you  have  to  be  ready  in 

95 


THE  BUTLER^S  STORY 

case  they  make  a  mistake.  By  ten  o'clock  you  and 
the  other  men  are  all  lined  up  in  the  front  hall,  and 
the  bobby  from  the  station  house  and  the  carriage  men 
are  hanging  around  the  end  of  the  awning  chaffing 
the  people  that  want  to  peek  in.  The  band  tunes  up 
and  gives  a  sample  bar  or  two  and  then  relapses.  The 
maids  and  valets  are  dawdling  on  the  staircases,  and 
the  caterer  and  his  men  have  been  there  since  six  o'clock 
raising  an  orful  mess.  Well,  we  crack  a  few  jokes 
among  ourselves  for  the  first  harf  hour  or  so  and 
then  there  is  a  rustle  on  the  stairs  and  down  comes 
Mrs.  Carter  and  we  all  slips  up  on  our  feet  and  act 
respectful. 

Usually  she  is  dressed  to  kill  with  her  hair  bulged 
out  behind  and  in  front  like  a  sofa  pillow  and  a  white 
plume  with  a  diamond  dandling  on  top  of  it  in  the 
middle  of  her  head,  and  she  comes  strutting  along  like 
she  was  afraid  she  would  break  and  takes  a  look 
around  to  see  everything  is  all  right. 

"Is  everything  prepared?"  she  says  to  me.  (She 
always  says  is  things  *' prepared''  on  state  occasions.) 

"Yes,  Madam,"  I  says. 

"Well,"  she  says,  "Open  that  window.  I  am  afraid 
it  is  going  to  be  too  hot !  See  to  it.  Ridges,  that  the 
rooms  do  not  get  too  hot !"  she  says. 

"Very  good.  Madam,"  I  says. 

Then  she  takes  a  peek  at  the  ballroom  and  says : 

96 


ON  MONEY  AND  HAPPINESS 

"I  hope  you  did  not  put  too  much  wax  on  the  floor," 
she  says. 

*'No,  Madam.'* 

*'What  is  the  matter  with  that  orchestra?"  she  says. 
"Why  don't  it  play?" 

"I  suppose,  Madam,  they  do  not  think  you  wish 
them  to  play  before  the  people  arrive,"  I  says. 

"Nonsense,"  she  says,  "Tell  them  to  play.  Wot 
would  anybody  think  if  they  came  and  there  wasn't 
any  music?"  she  says. 

So  I  has  to  go  and  tell  the  band  to  begin. 

Then  Miss  Harriet  comes  down  and  her  mother 
says: 

"Harriet,  how  is  my  hair?" 

"All  right,"  says  Harriet.  "How  is  my  skirt  hang- 
ing?" 

"All  right,"  says  her  mother.  "Do  you  think  Peleas 
has  got  it  too  far  up  behind?"  she  says. 

"No,"  answers  Miss  Harriet,  "It  is  good  enough. 
Does  that  place  show  on  my  neck?"  she  says. 

So  they  keep  at  it  for  about  harf  an  hour  wondering 
if  they  are  all  right  while  the  band  plays  and  all  the 
men  and  maids  in  the  halls  get  sleepy,  and  about  eleven 
o'clock  the  first  carriage  drives  up  and  there  is  the 
greatest  excitement.  Everybody  goes  ascurrying  round 
and  we  men  all  get  in  line  and  when  I  open  the  door 
it  is  only  a  note  from  someone  who  is  sorry  she  can't 
come. 

97 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

Well,  things  begin  to  get  slow  again.  The  band 
keeps  on  sort  of  sleepy  and  all  the  men  is  yawning 
and  the  family  is  sitting  round,  looking  bored  to  death 
in  the  drawing  room.  Every  once  in  a  while  Mrs. 
Carter  will  go  to  a  mirror  and  fix  something  and  then 
she  will  get  up  and  change  it  back  again.  It  gets  to 
be  eleven,  and  a  harf  arfter,  and  five  and  forty  min- 
utes arfter  and  we  are  about  ready  to  fall  asleep  when 
before  you  know  it  someone  is  standing  at  the  front 
door  trying  to  get  in  and  there  is  nobody  there  to  open 
it.  I  says  "S-sh-sh!"  and  they  all  jump  into  their 
places  and  James  he  scurries  up  and  opens  the  door 
and  in  waddles  old  lady  Gresham — leastwise  that  is 
wot  Miss  Harriet  calls  her — and  she  sails  along  by  us 
looking  very  haughty  and  so  on  hupstairs  before  she 
finds  out  she  is  the  first  one,  and  then  she  hangs  around 
in  the  dressing  room  feeling  of  the  stuff  the  hangings 
is  made  of  and  wondering  how  much  it  cost  a  yard — 
anyhow  that  is  wot  Evelyn  says  and  she  knows  her 
of  old.  In  a  few  minutes  more  everybody  begins 
streaming  in  together  and  the  band  hits  it  up  lively 
and  the  young  fellows  collect  on  the  landing  to  see 
if  the  girls  they  is  sweet  on  has  got  there  yet,  and  one 
by  one  the  people  begin  to  come  down  buttoning  their 
gloves  and  trying  to  look  unconscious. 

Of  course  I  am  standing  by  the  drawring  room  door 
and  as  fast  as  they  reach  the  threshold  I  asks  their 
names  and  announces  them  proper  and  it  would  make 

98 


ON  MONEY  AND  HAPPINESS 

you  laugh  to  see  how  many  of  them  will  blush  when 
their  names  is  called  out,  but  most  of  them  put  on 
plenty  of  side  and  sail  along  quite  au  naturel,  and  the 
dresses  beats  anything  I  ever  saw  in  England.  Well, 
there  is  a  great  to-do  in  the  room  where  Mrs.  Carter 
is  receiving  her  guests  but  it  is  orful  quiet  everywhere 
else  because  they  are  all  afraid  to  go  into  the  ballroom 
and  sit  there  lest  no  one  will  ask  them  to  dance,  and 
all  the  daybutantes  get  in  a  clump  by  one  door  and 
keep  everybody  else  out,  and  the  people  who  do  not 
know  anybody  go  walking  around  in  a  circle  as  if  they 
were  particular  anxious  to  find  somebody,  and  now  is 
the  time  for  all  the  bores  to  anchor  on  to  other  people 
because  there  is  no  chance  to  get  away  from  them. 
The  crowd  in  the  drawring  room  gets  bigger  and  bigger 
and  the  noise  is  orful  and  there  is  the  band  playing 
away  like  mad  and  no  one  dancing  and  Miss  Harriet 
is  nearly  crazy  and  answering  "Yes,  yes !  Indeed !  Is 
it  possible!"  to  the  old  codger  who  is  talking  to  her 
although  she  does  not  hear  a  word  he  says.  Well,  the 
young  men  are  all  up  on  the  landing  waiting  for  things 
to  liven  up  before  they  come  down,  and  it  looks  as  if 
no  one  was  ever  going  to  begin  to  dance,  and  just  as 
Miss  Harriet  is  beckoning  to  me  frantic  to  do  some- 
thing down  comes  Mr.  Amos  and  I  shouts  his  name 
and  he  winks  at  me  as  he  goes  in  and  says : 

"Ridges,  General  Sherman  said  war  was  hell,  but 
he  should  have  seen  this!" 

99 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

And  before  you  can  say  Jack  Robinson  Mr.  Amos 
has  Miss  Harriet  out  swinging  her  around  the  hall 
and  most  of  the  young  girls  has  squeezed  in  and  begin 
to  take  seats  and  in  five  minutes  more  the  floor  is  full 
of  couples,  and  when  Mr.  Amos  stops  another  young 
man  wants  a  chance  at  Miss  Harriet  and  so  he  goes 
and  talks  to  Mrs.  Carter  and  she  says : 

"I  don't  know  how  we  should  get  on  without  you  !'* 

And  this  is  where  I  get  a  chance  to  see  wot  kind 
of  chaps  some  of  the  young  men  are  who  come  to  our 
house,  for  most  of  them  only  dance  with  the  girls 
whose  mothers  have  big  houses  and  can  entertain  them, 
and  they  will  walk  right  by  others  that  they  know 
very  well  and  never  look  at  them.  So  that  some  few 
girls  are  dancing  every  few  minutes  and  others  are  not 
asked  to  dance  at  all.  Evelyn  says  she  has  seen  lots 
of  pretty  young  girls  slip  out  of  the  ballroom  and  go 
hupstairs  and  sit  in  the  dressing  room  until  it  is  time 
for  the  carriages,  and  she  says  she  knows  some  of 
them  are  crying  although  they  pretend  to  be  looking 
at  the  photographs.  Now  Mr.  Amos  makes  a  busi- 
ness of  being  nice  to  everybody  and  if  all  the  young 
men  were  like  him  every  girl  would  have  a  good  time, 
but  they  are  not,  so  a  lot  of  mothers  rise  up  and  call 
him  blessed  when  it  is  time  to  go  home. 

But  usually  by  the  time  the  cotillion  begins  the  girls 
who  are  not  having  a  good  time,  have  sense  enough 
to  go  away  and  the  crowd  thins  out  and  the  people 

100 


>> 

s 


ON  MONEY  AND  HAPPINESS 

that  are  left  really  begin  to  enjoy  themselves.  And 
then  Mr.  Amos  dances  all  he  wants  with  Miss  Patricia 
and  gives  her  all  his  favors.  Wot  a  couple  they  make 
to  be  sure !  How  I  wish  they  could  hit  it  orf  together, 
but  I  see  no  signs  of  it  although  they  are  the  very  best 
of  friends. 

You  should  see  the  favors  that  Mrs.  Carter  gives 
at  her  ball !  It  really  is  a  sin  with  all  the  poverty  there 
IS  in  the  world,  and  yet,  as  Mr.  Amos  says,  it  makes 
no  difference  because  if  she  didn't  spend  it  that  way 
she  would  leave  it  to  lie  in  the  bank.  She  has  gold 
cigarette  cases  and  opera  glasses  and  gold  pencils  and 
jewelled  watch  fobs  and  gold  headed  canes  for  the 
men,  and  parasols  and  real  lace  fans  and  chatylanes 
for  the  ladies.  Most  of  them  cost  twenty-five  dollars 
or  more  apiece  and  some  of  them  go  orf  with  as  many 
as  twenty  which  is  ekal  to  five  months  of  my  wages. 
Well  they  keep  it  up  until  three  o'clock  or  later  and 
then  gradually  everybody  goes  except  about  six  who 
are  bound  to  stay  until  the  last  minute.  And  then 
they  comes  tumbling  out  of  the  drawring  room  and 
shakes  hands  with  Mrs.  Carter  and  tells  her  wot  a  fine 
time  they  have  had  and  the  band  begins  to  pack  up 
and  wonder  if  they  could  have  a  sandwich  and  a  glass 
of  champagne  before  they  go.  The  hired  footmen 
hang  around  hoping  that  Mr.  Carter  will  do  the  hand- 
some thing  by  them,  which  he  always  does,  and  the 
maids  come  down  into  the  pantry  to  see  if  they  can 

lOI 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

get  some  patty  foy  grass,  and  there  is  an  orrid  smell 
of  tobacco  smoke  all  up  the  front  stairs  and  on  the 
landings  and  in  the  hall,  and  pieces  of  tissue  paper 
and  withered  flowers  everywhere  to  say  nothing  of 
broken  favors  and  the  young  lady  whose  carriage  has 
not  come  or  got  tired  of  waiting  and  has  to  be  sent 
home  in  a  cab.  Then  Mrs.  Carter  and  Miss  Harriet 
flops  down  on  the  sofas  and  puts  their  feet  up  and 
loosens  their  dresses,  and  when  the  last  carriage  has 
gone  and  only  Mr.  Amos  is  left  Mr.  Carter  sends  me 
for  cigars  and  he  lights  a  big  one  and  says : 
"Thank  God  that  is  over !" 


102 


VI 

I  TURN   DETECTIVE 

Things  continued  happy  at  our  house  for  several 
days  arfter  that  "Toledo  Tube"  dinner.  Mr.  Carter 
said  he  was  going  to  have  a  new  picture  painted  to  be 
called  "All's  Well  That  Ends  Well"  or  "Fools  Rush 
in  Where  Hangels  Fear  to  Tread,"  and  Mrs.  Carter 
went  down  to  a  jewellery  store  on  Fifth  Avenue  and 
bought  a  pearl  necklace  for  herself  and  a  diamond 
dog  collar  for  Miss  Harriet  that  cost  together  thirty- 
five  thousand  dollars,  and  whenever  I  saw  them  on 
their  necks  I  would  wonder  regular  how  far  I  had 
been  unconscious  instrumental  in  the  success  of  Mr. 
Carter's  coop.  But  it  did  not  last  long.  Friday  night 
while  the  family  was  at  the  opera  Mr.  Tom  rang  the 
bell  and  when  he  passed  me  in  the  hall  he  looked  that 
white  and  aggard  that  I  was  quite  hupset.  He  saw 
me  fast  enough  and  gave  me  an  ugly  look  that  meant 
no  good. 

"I'll  wait,"  he  says,  "until  the  family  comes  home," 
he  says.     "Bring  me  some  whisky." 

So  I  had  James  serve  him  in  the  library  and  I  left 

103 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

him  there  walking  around  1h.e  room  muttering  to 
hisself. 

It  was  almost  quarter  arfter  twelve  when  the  family 
returned  and  when  I  told  Mrs.  Carter  that  Mr.  Tom 
was  there  she  was  still  so  full  of  her  and  Miss  Harriet's 
necklace  that  she  couldn't  think  of  anything  else  and 
rushed  right  in  to  him  and  shouted: 

'*0  Tom!  Have  you  seen  the  lovely  necklace  your 
father  gave  me,  and  the  one  he  gave  Harriet?" 

"Very  pretty,"  grunts  Mr.  Tom. 

"They  cost  thirty-five  thousand  dollars,"  she  says, 
rather  annoyed  at  his  not  showing  any  more  enthu- 
siasm. 

"Sinful  waste !"  he  growls,  turning  away  and  repeat- 
ing, "Thirty-five  thousand  dollars !" 

"Wot  is  the  matter,  dear?"  says  his  mother,  sort 
of  anxious.     "Don't  you  feel  well?" 

"O,  I'm  all  right,"  he  says,  "Only  I'm  not  particu- 
larly interested  in  geegaws,"  he  says. 

Well,  Mrs.  Carter  was  very  much  put  out  at  the 
way  Mr.  Tom  spoke  to  her  so  she  simply  walked  out 
of  the  room  without  even  saying  good-night  and  left 
her  husband  with  him.  Neither  of  them  said  anything 
for  some  time,  except  Mr.  Tom  went  on  smoking  and 
pouring  down  whisky  and  soda. 

"Wot's  the  matter  with  you  ?"  says  his  father  finally. 

"If  you  must  know  it,  I'm  cleaned  out!"  answers 
Mr.  Tom  very  short. 

104 


I  TURN  DETECTIVE 

"Wot!  Again!"  says  his  father.  "You  promised 
me  on  your  sacred  honor  not  to  touch  a  card  or  sell 
or  buy  a  share  of  stock !"  he  says. 

"Well,"  says  Tom,  "the  fact  is  I  got  a  gilt-edged 
tip  to  buy  Toledo  Tube  last  Wednesday,  and  the  infor- 
mation seemed  so  good  that  I  just  took  a  chance  and 
bought  a  thousand  shares  at  70.  You  know  where 
it  went?" 

"Yes,"  says  his  father,  looking  queer.  "Where  did 
you  get  out?" 

"At  35,"  says  Tom.  "It  was  at  43  when  I  put  in 
my  order  to  sell  but  it  was  going  down  so  fast  that  I 
was  lucky  to  get  out  when  I  did.  There  was  some 
crooked  work  there,  I'll  bet!" 

"How's  that!"  cries  his  father  getting  red.  "Wot 
do  you  mean  by  crooked  work!" 

"O,  you  know  as  well  as  I  do.  Some  bunco  man 
just  gold-bricked  the  market,  that's  all!" 

Mr.  Carter  was  getting  that  angry  I  knew  some- 
thing would  happen  and  happen  quick. 

"Well,"  he  says  very  sharp,  "I  suppose  you  think 
all  you  have  to  do  is  to  come  around  and  get  your 
money  back  from  me!  Let  me  tell  you  I'll  not  give 
you  a  cent!  You  have  broken  your  solemn  promise 
and  now  that  you  have  made  your  bed  you  can  lie  on 
it!"  he  says,  pounding  the  arm  of  the  chair. 

Mr.  Tom  had  grown  very  white. 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

"You  don't  mean  that  you  won't  help  me !"  he  says, 
sort  of  stammering. 

"I  mean  just  that !"  says  Mr.  Carter. 

'Then  I'm  ruined!"  gasps  Mr.  Tom. 

*'Look  here,"  shouts  his  father,  "I  think  it's  about 
time  for  a  understanding  between  us  two,"  he  says. 
*T've  paid  your  debts  and  supported  you  for  the  last 
thirty-five  years  with  hardly  a  word  of  thanks.  You 
think  you  are  too  good  for  your  father  and  mother 
and  sister  because  you  have  a  few  smart  friends  that 
let  you  pay  for  their  dinners  and  cocktails  and  you 
don't  even  live  at  home  because  our  society  ain't  good 
enough  for  you.  You  lie  around  all  day  in  your  swell 
club  and  talk  about  women  and  champagne  and  race 
horses.  Three  months  ago  I  gave  you  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars  which  was  to  do  you  for  a  year.  You 
swore  by  all  that  was  holy  that  if  I  paid  your  last 
losses  you'd  never  play  the  market  again.  Now  look 
at  you !  To  think  I  should  ever  have  had  such  a  son ! 
This  time  you  can  shift  for  yourself.  You  can  pay 
orf  your  indebtedness  by  degrees  and  meantime  you 
can  go  to  work." 

*'Do  you  mean  that?"  asks  Mr.  Tom. 

**You  bet  I  mean  it!"  says  his  father. 

For  a  moment  they  glared  at  each  other  without 
speaking.    Then  Mr.  Tom  says  with  a  sneer : 

''Do  you  intend  to  forbid  me  the  house?" 

"Not  at  all!"  says  his  father.     "You  can  always 

io6 


I  TURN  DETECTIVE 

make  your  home  with  us  so  long  as  you  remain 
straight." 

'Thanks,  I'm  sure,"  says  Tom.  ''Do  I  understand 
you  won't  let  me  have  a  single  dollar  to  pay  an  honest 
debt?"  he  says. 

"Do  you  call  buying  stocks  you  can't  pay  for  hon- 
est?" asks  his  father. 

"It's  as  honest  as  any  other  Wall  Street  business," 
says  Tom. 

"O,  do  you  think  so!"  says  his  father,  "Well,  I 
don't!  No,  I  won't  give  you  a  copper  cent,"  he  says. 
"From  this  time  on  you  can  earn  your  own  living." 

Mr.  Tom  gave  him  one  look  and  ground  his  teeth. 

"I  might  have  known  it !"  he  says.  And  with  that 
he  turns  and  walks  out  of  the  door. 

"Give  me  my  coat !"  he  says  to  me  in  the  hall. 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  says. 

"Keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head!"  he  snarls,  "or 
something  may  happen  to  you !" 

"Very  good,  sir,"  says  I  very  quiet. 

Then  he  cursed  me  and  went  down  the  steps  and  I 
could  hear  him  muttering  to  hisself,  "Thirty-five 
thousand  dollars!     Thirty-five  thousand  dollars!" 

Although  there  was  going  to  be  a  great  party  a  sort 
of  gloom  settled  down  over  the  house  arfter  that,  for 
while  Mr.  Tom  did  not  come  back,  two  or  three  times 
lawyers  called  to  see  Mr.  Carter  in  the  library  and 
there  was  always  high  words  before  they  came  away. 

107 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

Miss  Patricia  started  to  take  a  course  in  trained  nurs- 
ing and  that  kept  her  so  busy  most  of  the  time  that 
she  was  never  in  when  anybody  called  and  Mr.  Potts 
never  came  at  all.  Downstairs  things  went  on  about 
as  usual.  Evelyn  managed  to  pump  Eliza  about  the 
dinner  and  before  she  got  through  found  out  all  about 
"T.  T."  and  my  two  thousand  dollars.  But  she  seemed 
to  think  it  was  too  bad  I  was  never  to  get  the  money, 
which  it  was  made  clear  I  shouldn't  when  I  got  the 
check  back  from  the  bank  marked  **No  funds"  and  a 
letter  from  the  Receiver  in  Bankruptcy  saying  that  I 
was  scheduled  for  two  thousand  dollars  but  he  did  not 
have  very  favorable  hopes  of  any  dividend  being  paid. 
But  I  thought  I  noticed  a  increased  respect  on  the 
part  of  the  other  servants,  and  several  who  hardly  used 
to  sound  the  "Mister"  when  they  spoke  to  me  pro- 
nounce it  now  quite  audible. 

About  this  time  Master  Willie  came  home  from 
school  and  began  to  make  things  lively  and  everybody 
miserable,  for  he  would  get  up  at  seven  o'clock  and 
come  down  stairs  to  breakfast,  which  is  most  incon- 
venient. But  I  fixed  it  so  his  coffee  should  be  kept 
hot  from  the  servants'  table  and  he  thought  it  was 
fine  and  a  great  deal  better  than  wot  he  got  at  school. 
My  eye!  but  he  is  smart!  He  is  most  as  clever  as 
Miss  Patricia  and  as  wicked  as  Mr.  Tom,  only  in  a 
perfectly  good-natured  way.  He  and  Miss  Patricia 
are  the  greatest  chums  and  she  takes  him  to  the  matinay 

io8 


I  TURN  DETECTIVE 

with  other  boys  who  are  his  friends  and  you  would 
think  that  they  would  eat  her  up.  It  is  funny  that  she 
does  not  care  much  for  young  gentlemen  her  own 
age,  but  with  boys  she  is  as  free  and  easy  as  she  can 
be  and  loves  to  have  them  around.  Mr.  Carter  may 
be  common  but  Master  Willie  is  downright  vulgar, 
for  he  says  ''Gee!"  and  ''Golly!"  and  "Gosh!"  right 
out  all  the  time  while  Mr.  Carter  only  swears  occa- 
sional. But  Master  Willie  knows  Lating,  Greek  and 
Algebra  and  it  is  astonishing  to  hear  him  repeat  Shake- 
speare and  the  Ballad  of  the  Revenge  by  Tenison.  But 
sometimes  I  can  tell  by  his  breath  he  has  been  smoking 
cigarettes,  and  he  sticks  pins  in  the  men's  legs  who 
are  in  knee  breeches.  One  day  when  I  said  I  smelt 
smoke  on  him  he  says: 

"Gosh,  Ridges,  you  make  me  thing  of  Snooks." 

"And  who  may  be  Snooks?"  says  I 

"Why  Snooks  is  a  master  at  our  school,"  he  says, 
"and  if  he  thinks  you  have  been  smoking  arfter  a 
football  game,"  he  says,  "he  will  rush  up  and  grab 
you  by  the  hand  and  stick  his  great  nose  into  your 
face  and  say  'My!  But  that  was  a  fine  tackle  you 
made  in  the  first  arf !'  and  then  he  will  sniff  hard  two 
or  three  time  to  see  if  he  can  smell  anything" 

Well  wot  happened  at  the  ball  was  quite  orful  and 
spoilt  it  all  for  everybody  who  knew  about  it,  which 
was  only  a  few,  but  when  everything  was  going  on 
full  swing  I  happened  to  go  into  the  coat  room  to  open 

109 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

a  window  to  let  in  some  air.  The  coat  room  is  in  the 
extension  and  you  can  see  the  back  of  the  house  from 
it,  and  just  as  I  looked  up  I  saw  a  shadow  in  Mrs. 
Carter's  window. 

*That  is  queer,"  I  says,  *T  wonder  who  is  in  Mrs. 
Carter's  room!" 

I  am  always  uneasy  about  it  because  she  has  a  little 
safe  there  with  all  her  jewellery  in  it.  So  I  thought 
I  would  go  up  and  see  if  everything  was  all  right.  It 
was  about  a  harf  arfter  twelve  and  the  ballroom  was 
jammed  with  lots  of  gentlemen  'standing  outside  the 
door  and  couples  sitting  on  the  stairs.  On  the  floor 
above  are  the  dressing  rooms  where  the  maids  and 
valets  are,  but  most  everybody  uses  the  elevator.  Well, 
it  was  so  crowded  outside  that  I  ran  up  the  back  stairs 
to  the  third  hall  where  Mrs.  Carter's  room  is  located. 
It  was  absolutely  still  up  there  with  no  one  around, 
only  the  cigarette  smoke  and  the  music  came  up  from 
below,  and  Mrs.  Carter's  bedroom  door  was  shut.  So 
I  turned  the  knob  quiet  and  opened  the  door  a  little. 
Everything  seemed  all  right  and  I  was  just  going  to 
close  it  again  when  I  noticed  a  little  crack  of  light  in 
the  closet.  I  might  as  well  admit  I  was  scared  but 
there  was  nothing  else  to  do  so  I  crept  over  and  threw 
open  the  door  sudden  and  there  was  a  man  in  evening 
dress  working  at  Mrs.  Carter's  safe.  He  turned,  and 
just  as  I  was  going  to  grab  him  I  saw  it  was  Mr. 
Tom! 

no 


I  TURN  DETECTIVE 

He  turned  very  white  for  a  minute  and  then  the 
ugliest  look  came  into  his  face  I  ever  saw. 

"O  ho !"  he  says  between  his  teeth,  "It's  you,  is  it !" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Tom,"  I  says,  "it  is  me." 

"Wot  do  you  propose  to  do?"  he  says,  " — charge 
me  with  being  a  burglar?"  he  says  with  a  sneer. 

"I  shall  tell  my  master  you  were  in  your  mother's 
bedroom  closet  trying  to  open  the  safe,"  I  says. 

"Come,  come,"  he  says,  "don't  be  a  fool.  No  one 
would  believe  you.  Be  sensible,"  he  says,  "and  keep 
your  mouth  shut." 

"I'm  sorry,  sir "  I  began. 

"Please,  for  God's  sake.  Ridges !"  he  whines,  coming 
out  of  the  closet,  "don't  ruin  me!" 

I  stepped  back  to  allow  him  to  pass  and  shook  my 
head  and  before  I  knew  wot  he  was  going  to  do  he 
sprang  at  me  and  struck  me  a  terrible  blow  in  the 
face  that  banged  my  head  back  against  the  wall  so 
that,  everything  grew  black  and  then  while  I  was  help- 
less I  felt  another  blow  and  fell  to  the  floor  uncon- 
scious. 

I  don't  know  how  long  it  was  before  I  came  to  my- 
self but  when  I  did  I  was  lying  on  the  floor  in  Mrs. 
Carter's  bedroom  and  the  blood  was  streaming  into 
my  eyes  and  mouth  and  there  was  a  singing  in  my 
head.  Then  I  lost  consciousness  again  and  artfer  a 
while  I  woke  up  and  crawled  to  the  door,  but  it  was 

III 


THE  BUTLER^S  STORY 

locked  on  the  outside  and  in  trying  to  open  it  I  fainted 
and  when  I  came  to  for  the  third  time  the  room  was 
full  of  people  and  Miss  Patricia  was  there  in  her  ball 
gown  with  a  sponge  and  a  basin  wiping  my  face. 

"Better  not  send  for  the  police,"  I  heard  Mr.  Tom 
say.     "The  thing  should  be  managed  quietly." 

"Good,  he's  coming  to!"  said  Miss  Patricia  shoving 
a  pillow  under  my  head.    "Do  you  know  me.  Ridges?" 

"Miss  Patricia !"  I  whispered  trying  to  smile  at  her. 
Then  I  grew  weak  again. 

"Here,  take  a  sip  of  brandy,"  she  says,  holding  up 
a  glass.    Just  then  Mr.  Carter  says: 

"That  is  enough,  Patricia,  you  have  done  enough 
for  him,  I  think." 

"Wot  do  you  mean?"  she  says.  "Do  you  intend 
that  I  shall  not  look  arfter  an  injured  man?"  and  her 
eyes  flashed  so  that  her  father  says  sort  of  nervous : 

"O,  do  just  as  you  like!" 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  confusion  and  I  noticed 
that  every  time  they  went  in  and  out  they  had  to  unlock 
the  door,  and  that  Mrs.  Carter  was  walking  around 
in  her  feathers  wringing  her  hands  and  sort  of  whim- 
pering. Then  there  was  a  low  knock  on  the  door  and 
Miss  Harriet  came  in  with  Mr.  Ketchem,  the  family 
lawyer,  who  had  been  downstairs  at  the  party,  and 
Master  Willie  who  slipped  in  behind  in  his  pi  jamas 
and  wrapper. 

"Well,  well,"  says  Mr.  Ketchem,  "This  is  very  un- 

112 


I  TURN  DETECTIVE 

fortunate !    Carter,  I  think  you  had  better  let  me  take 
charge  here  and  straighten  things  out,  eh?" 

"I  wish  you  would !"  says  Mr.  Carter,  pulling  out  a 
cigar  and  biting  orf  the  end  and  chewing  it. 

"Well,"  says  Mr.  Ketchem,  ''Let  us  put  that  man 
on  the  sofa  the  first  thing." 

The  brandy  had  revived  me,  so  I  says,  'T  think 
I  am  able  to  get  up,  sir,"  and  with  that  I  crawled  to 
my  knees.  At  first  Miss  Patricia  was  for  making  me 
lie  down  again,  and  then  Mr.  Ketchem  and  Mr.  Carter 
harf  carried  me  over  to  the  sofa  and  laid  me  down 
on  it. 

"Now,  Mrs.  Carter,"  says  Mr.  Ketchem,  "there 
is  nothing  to  worry  about.  Your  jewellery  is  quite 
safe  and  you  have  guests  to  be  attend  to.  May  I  sug- 
gest that  you  take  a  drink  of  some  stimulant  and  go 
downstairs?     Try  and  calm  yourself." 

So  Mrs.  Carter  took  a  little  brandy  which  made  her 
cough  and  went  out.  That  left  Mr.  Carter,  Mr. 
Ketchem,  Miss  Patricia,  Miss  Harriet,  Mr.  Tom  and 
Master  WiUie  in  the  room.  It  is  very  spacious  and 
the  fire  was  smouldering  cheerful  and  I  began  to  feel 
sleepy  and  wonder  if  James  would  have  the  sense  to 
open  another  case  of  champagne,  and  I  heard  Mr. 
Ketchem  say: 

"We  might  as  well  find  out  exactly  how  this  thing 
happened  before  any  stories  get  about,"  he  says.    "As 

"3 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

for  you,  Ridges,  remember  that  if  you  make  a  move 
to  leave  the  room  you  will  be  arrested  and  locked  up." 

"Very  good,  sir,"  I  muttered,  feeling  very  seedy  and 
not  understanding  why  he  should  talk  that  way  to  me. 

He  fumbled  in  his  pocket  and  took  out  some  envel- 
opes and  a  gold-headed  pencil  and  then  he  told  the 
ladies  to  sit  down  and  he  sat  down  hisself. 

Miss  Harriet  took  a  seat  orf  in  the  corner  by  the 
door  and  kept  saying  "O  dear!"  and  **Dear  me!"  and 
acting  like  a  silly  sheep. 

"Now,"  he  says,  says  he,  turning  to  Mr.  Tom, 
"please  tell  me  exactly  wot  occurred." 

Well,  that  woke  me  up,  I  can  tell  you,  and  I  listened 
as  hard  as  I  could  while  Mr.  Tom  told  most  circum- 
stantial how  he  had  just  come  out  of  the  coat  room 
on  the  second  floor  when  he  saw  me  slip  hupstairs  and 
start  toward  his  mother's  bedroom.  He  knew,  he  said, 
that  Mrs.  Carter  had  just  purchased  a  valuable  neck- 
lace and  he  thought  he  would  find  out  wot  I  was  doing 
hupstairs  when  I  ought  to  be  in  the  hall  receiving  the 
guests.  He  hurries  arfter  me,  he  says,  and  sees  me 
enter  the  room  and  go  toward  the  closet.  Then  he 
waits  while  I  go  fumbling  at  the  safe.  He  calls  to  me 
that  I  am  under  arrest  and  I  turn  and  suddenly  attack 
him  and  he  knocks  me  down  and  locks  me  in  the  room 
and  gives  the  alarm  to  Mr.  Carter. 

Mr.  Ketchem  had  been  getting  everything  down  on 
the  back  of  an  envelope. 

114 


I  TURN  DETECTIVE 

'Tt*s  false!"  I  shouts  trying  to  get  up  on  my  feet. 
*Tt's  a  lie!" 

"Shh !"  says  Miss  Patricia,  shaking  her  head  at  me. 

**You  will  have  your  turn,"  remarks  Mr.  Ketchem 
very  severe.     *'Keep  quiet  and  sit  down." 

So  I  did.  But  it  was  wonderful  to  hear  that  Tom 
lie! 

"Now,"  says  Mr.  Ketchem,  "a  few  questions  of 
you,  sir,"  and  he  turns  to  Mr.  Carter. 

"How  many  people  have  the  combination  of  this 
safe?"  he  asks. 

"Only  my  wife  and  Eliza  Thomas  her  maid,"  says 
Mr.  Carter. 

"Ha!"  says  Mr.  Ketchem,  writing  it  down,  "Eliza 
Thomas — where  does  she  come  from?" 

"Ask  Ridges !"  interrupts  Mr.  Tom.  "I  gHess  that 
explains  how  he  got  the  combination  of  the  safe." 

"O!"  I  gasps,  "wot  a " 

"Hold  your  tongue !"  says  Ketchem. 

"Can't  you  make  that  man  keep  still!"  shouts  Miss 
Harriet. 

"Wait,  Ridges,"  said  Miss  Patricia.  "You'll  have 
your  chance." 

"How  long  has  the  man  worked  for  you?"  he  asks 
of  Mr.  Carter  very  impressive. 

"Nine  years,"  he  says. 

"Faithfully,  so  far  as  you  know?"  says  he. 

"Yes,  so  far  as  I  know,"  he  says. 

"5 


THE  BUTLER^S  STORY 

"In  any  trouble  as  you  know  of?"  says  he. 

"Not  that  I  know  of,"  he  says. 

"Hm!"  says  Ketchem  writing  it  down. 

"Now,"  turning  to  me,  "get  up  there  and  tell  us  your 
side  of  it  and  take  care  you  tell  us  the  truth." 

"He  is  not  strong  enough  to  stand,  let  him  sit  here 
on  the  sofa,"  says  Miss  Patricia  summat  indignant. 

"O,  very  well,"  says  Ketchem.     "Only  go  ahead.*' 

"Well,"  I  says,  "I  saw  the  shadow  on  the  window 
when  I  was  in  the  coat  room  and  I  went  up,  and  Mrs. 
Carter's  door  was  closed  and  I  opened  it  and  saw  a 
crack  of  light  in  the  closet.  It  was  Mr.  Tom  that  was 
there.  He  didn't  find  me  there  at  all.  When,"  I  says, 
"I  discovered  who  it  was  in  there,  he  begged  me  to 
say  nothing  and  then  he  took  me  orf  my  guard  and 
knocked  me  down  and  left  me  there." 

"O!"  gasps  Miss  Patricia. 

"How  can  he  tell  such  a  lie !"  says  Miss  Harriet. 

"Hm!"  says  Mr.  Ketchem,  "So  you  are  going  to 
try  to  put  it  on  a  member  of  the  household  are  you? 
You  had  better  think  twice,"  he  says.  "You  will  suffer 
all  the  more  for  it,"  he  says. 

"Well,  it  is  the  truth,"  I  says,  "I  can't  change  that." 

"Hm!"  says  Ketchem,  "This  is  very  awkward.  Of 
course  the  man  is  l3^ng,  but  it  will  make  a  nasty  story 
for  the  papers." 

"O,"  says  Mr.  Carter,  "after  all  these  years!     I 

ii6 


I  TURN  DETECTIVE 

never  would  have  believed  it !    Ridges  how  could  you 
doitr 

"I  didn't,  sir,"  I  says. 

"Tom,"  says  Miss  Patricia  suddenly,  "was  the  doof 
of  the  room  open  or  closed  when  you  came  down  the 
hall?" 

"Closed,"  says  Mr.  Tom  with  a  smile.  "Of  course 
he  closed  it  arfter  him  so  no  one  would  see  wot  he 
was  up  to." 

"Didn't  you  say  you  could  look  into  the  room  and 
see  him  going  toward  the  closet?"  she  says. 

"No-o-o,"  says  Tom  trying  to  think. 

"Yes  you  did!  Yes  you  did!"  says  Ketchem.  "I 
have  it  all  down  on  this  envelope.  T  saw  Ridges  enter 
the  room  and  go  toward  the  closet,'  you  says." 

"Well,  if  I  said  it,  it  was  so,"  says  Tom  sort  of 
nervous. 

"Then  if  you  could  see  Ridges  going  toward  the 
closet  how  could  the  door  be  closed?"  asked  Miss 
Patricia.  Well,  something  warm  come  into  my  heart 
for  I  saw  she  was  on  my  side. 

Mr.  Tom  hesitated. 

"I  mean  he  started  for  the  closet— of  course  he  was 
intending  to  go  to  the  closet,"  says  he. 

"But  how  do  you  know,"  she  persists,  "if  the  door 
was  between  you?" 

"O  hell,"  he  says,  "I  don't  remember  exactly  how 

"7 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

it  was,  but  I  saw  him  go  in  and  I  opened  the  door  and 
went  in  arfter  him !" 

"Hm!"  says  Ketchem,  a-writing  of  it  down. 

"You  say  Ridges  attacked  you?'*  asks  Miss  Patricia. 

"He  did/'  says  Tom. 

"He  is  bigger  and  heavier  than  you,"  says  she. 
"How  was  it  he  didn't  hit  you?"  she  says. 

"I  was  too  quick  for  him !"  he  says  scowling  at  her. 
"Say,"  he  adds,  "wot  are  you  trying  to  do?  Make 
me  out  a  Har?" 

"Not  at  all,"  she  says,  "I'm  only  trying  to  find  out 
the  truth." 

"Hm !"  says  Ketchem,  "Is  there  anything  you  wish 
to  add  to  your  testimony?"  turning  to  me. 

"Mr.  Thomas  had  a  small  piece  of  paper  in  his 
hand,"  I  says,  "when  he  turned  around  in  the  closet, 
if  that  is  anything,"  I  says. 

Mr.  Ketchem  wrote  it  down. 

"Let's  look  for  it,"  says  Miss  Patricia. 

"Patricia!"  cried  her  father,  "Do  you  mean  to  in- 
sinuate that  your  brother  is  not  telling  the  truth?  I 
am  surprised  at  you." 

But  Miss  Patricia  was  already  on  her  hands  and 
knees  looking  under  the  bed  and  by  the  closet  door, 
only  Mr.  Tom  who  was  sitting  right  there  made  no 
move  to  help  and  glared  as  if  he  would  like  to  bite 
her.    Then  she  came  back  and  sat  down  by  me  again. 

ii8 


I  TURN  DETECTIVE 

"It  is  gone,"  she  whispered.  "Where  can  it  be? 
O,  it's  all  too  dreadful!" 

"This  is  awkward!"  repeated  Mr.  Ketchem.  "It 
is  word  against  word.  We  really  ought  to  have  some 
corroborative  evidence.  You  say  that  this  Thomas 
woman  had  the  combination  of  the  safe.  ,Send  for 
her,"  he  says.  "We  might  as  well  get  her  testimony 
now  as  later." 

"She  will  lie  to  shield  Ridges !"  sneered  Tom. 

"Well,  we  will  nail  her  testimony  now  so  she  cannot 
change  it  later  anyway,"  says  Ketchem. 

So  Eliza  was  rung  for  and  she  came  up  terrible 
flustered  and  nervous. 

"Now,"  says  Mr.  Ketchem  standing  her  up  all  alone 
by  herself  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  "tell  the  truth. 
Did  you  ever  tell  anybody  the  combination  of  your 
mistress's  safe?" 

Now  Eliza  was  so  scared  she  did  not  see  me  at  all 
and  she  did  not  know  wot  it  was  all  about  but  just 
looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  them  beseeching  and 
for  a  minute  she  didn't  answer.  Then  she  said  in  a 
very  low  voice : 

"Yes,  I  did,"  she  says. 

Miss  Patricia  was  looking  hard  at  Mr.  Tom. 

"Hm!"  says  Ketchem.     "To  whom,  if  you  please?" 

Tom  was  glaring  at  Eliza  like  he  would  hipnotize 
her  and  she  caught  his  eye  and  sort  of  trembled  and 

119 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

Miss  Patricia  saw  that  too.    Then  Eliza  looked  down 
at  the  floor  and  says : 

"Mr.  Thomas  Carter." 

"Wot!''  shouted  Mr.  Carter.  "Don't  lie,  woman, 
or  we'll  have  you  in  jail  too!" 

"It's  an  infernal  falsehood!"  yelled  Mr.  Tom.  "I 
have  hardly  spoken  to  the  girl  in  my  life!" 

"Gently!  Gently!"  says  Ketchem.  "Everything  in 
its  place  and  one  thing  at  a  time.  Now,  m|y  girl, 
don't  be  afraid.  Tell  us  how  you  came  to  confide  this 
to  Mr.  Thomas,  as  you  say?" 

"It  was  at  the  theatre,"  says  Eliza,  sort  of  choking. 
"He  said  he  loved  me  and  was  going  to  marry  me 
and  he  had  given  me  a  beautiful  necklace  and  a  bokay, 
and  we  were  sitting  in  a  box  and  watching  the  play. 
There  was  a  safe  on  the  stage  and  a  fat  little  man, 
who  was  pretending  to  be  a  burglar,  made  a  great  fuss 
about  opening  it  and  when  at  last  he  got  it  open  there 
was  only  a  coal  hod  with  some  coal  in  it.  Everybody 
laughed  and  Mr.  Tom  said  he  never  met  anybody  yet 
who  could  remember  a  safe  combination  without  writ- 
ing it  down,  and  I  said  I  could  and  he  bet  me  a  dozen 
pair  of  new  long  gloves  that  I  couldn't.  So  I  told 
him." 

"Hm!"  says  Ketchem.     "You  say  this  is  all  a  lie, 
Mr.  Carter?" 

"Absolutely,"  gasps  Tom.     "She  is  making  every 
word  of  it  up." 

120 


I  TURN  DETECTIVE 

"Let  us  see,"  says  Mr.  Ketchem.  "Did  you  ever 
give  this  young  woman  a  necklace?'* 

"I  did  not !"  says  Tom. 

"Or  take  her  to  the  theatre?" 

"Never!"  says  Tom. 

"Wot  play  do  you  claim  he  took  you  to?"  ask 
Ketchem. 

"To  the  Herald  Square,"  says  Eliza.  "And  he  did, 
too!    I'm  astonished  he  won't  say  so." 

"When  do  you  say  it  was?" 

"November  27th, — of  a  Thursday,"  says  Eliza. 

"Hm !    Have  you  still  got  the  necklace  ?" 

"Indeed  I  have!"  says  Eliza. 

"Fetch  it  here,"  says  Ketchem. 

All  this  time  Mr.  Tom  had  been  getting  more  and 
more  uneasy  but  he  kept  sitting  down  in  the  same 
positicm  and  never  moving. 

"Do  you  mind  turning  orf  that  light?"  asks  Miss 
Patricia  of  him  pointing  to  one  across  the  room. 

"O,  leave  it  alone,  can't  you !"  he  growls,  then  turn- 
ing to  Mr.  Ketchem  he  says,  "How  much  longer  are 
you  going  to  let  this  woman  slander  me?  Is  the  pro- 
duction of  a  bit  of  jewellery  going  to  prove  that  I  gave 
it  to  her  or  that  I  am  a  liar  or  a  safe-cracker?" 

"We  must  give  everybody  a  chance,"  says  Mr. 
Ketchem.     "That  is  only  fair,"  says  he. 

Pretty  soon  Eliza  came  back  with  the  necklace  and 
gave  it  to  Mr.  Ketchem,  who  took  it  and  held  it  up. 

121 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

"Hm!"  he  says,  "A  pretty  good  imitation!  Now 
you  say  Mr.  Carter  gave  you  this?" 

"I  do  indeed,"  says  Eliza. 

"And  you  say  this  is  all  a  lie?"  asks  Ketchem  of 
Tom. 

*T  most  certainly  do,"  says  Tom,  quite  red. 

"Very  awkward!"  says  Ketchem,  *'Very  awkward 
indeed !    Wot  do  you  make  of  it.  Carter?" 

"It  looks  like  a  conspiracy  to  rob  the  house  and  put 
it  on  my  son,"  says  Mr.  Carter,  but  he  didn't  say  it 
very  confident  like,  and  he  looked  all  broke  up. 

"Tom,"  says  Miss  Patricia,  "will  you  swear  to  me 
on  your  honor  as  a  gentleman  and  by  God's  holy  word 
that  wot  Eliza  says  is  false?" 

"I  will,"  says  he  bold  as  brass,  "every  word  of  it. 
I'll  swear  by  anything  you  like." 

"Then,"  says  Miss  Patricia,  "you  are  not  telling 
the  truth,  for  you  were  at  the  theatre  with  Eliza  just 
as  she  says." 

"Wot!"  stammered  Tom,  turning  white. 

"For  I  saw  you,"  continues  Miss  Patricia,  "in  the 
back  of  the  lower  right-hand  box." 

"You — ^you're  mistaken!"  stammered  Tom. 

"No,  I  am  not!"  she  replied.  "I  dare  you  to  get 
up  and  face  Eliza  and  deny  wot  she  says." 

"Wot's  that!"  sneered  Tom,  "Some  stage  trick! 
Why  should  I  get  up  ?  Wot  do  you  mean.  I  tell  you 
she  lies." 

122 


I  TURN  DETECTIVE 

"Hm!"  says  Ketchem.  "You  decline  to  do  as  your 
sister  asks?" 

Tom  turned  very  red  and  then  white. 

"I  do— decline!"  he  says.     "It's  unnecessary!" 

I  saw  Miss  Patricia  whisper  to  Master  Willie  and 
Mr.  Ketchem  looked  very  hard  at  Mr.  Tom. 

Old  Mr.  Carter  simply  bit  his  lips. 

Then  all  of  a  sudden  Mr.  Tom  moved  his  leg  and 
bent  over  very  sudden. 

"Look  there!"  cries  Master  Willie  and  before  you 
could  say  Jack  Robinson  he  had  grabbed  up  a  little 
piece  of  paper  that  had  been  under  Mr.  Tom's  foot  all 
the  time. 

"Wot  are  you  doing?"  yelled  Tom.  "I  don't  know 
wot  that  paper  is.  I  never  saw  it  before!"  But  his 
voice  sort  of  petered  out  at  the  end.  Master  Willie 
handed  it  to  Mr.  Ketchem  who  read  it  aloud: 

"Safe 
"31-3-13^' 

"That  is  the  combination  of  the  safe,"  says  Eliza. 

"And  that  is  the  same  paper  he  had  in  his  hand 
when  I  came  in,"  I  says. 

Miss  Patricia  looked  very  tired  and  sad. 

"It's  all  right,  Ridges,"  she  says,  "I  knew  you  were 
telling  the  truth." 

"Do  you  recognize  the  writing  on  this  paper  ?"  says 
Ketchem  handing  it  to  Mr.  Carter. 

123 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

Mr.  Carter  took  it  and  bent  his  head. 

"It's  Tom's,"  he  says.     "O,  my  God!'" 

''Yes,"  says  Master  Willie,  "and  I  saw  Tom  go  into 
the  room  about  five  minutes  before  Ridges  came  up 
and  shut  the  door  arfter  him,  and  then  I  saw  Ridges 
come  up!" 

"Hey!"  says  Ketchem.  "Wot's  that?  Where  were 
you?" 

"I  was  up  on  the  landing  all  alone,"  says  Willie. 
"I  got  out  of  bed  to  listen  to  the  music." 

"Well,  I'm !"  says  Mr.  Ketchem.     "Wot  have 

you  got  to  say  to  that?"  looking  at  Mr.  Tom. 

Then  Mr.  Tom  got  up  all  of  a  sudden  all  shaking 
and  very  pale. 

"Wot's  the  use !"  he  hissed  out.  "Yes,  I  was  arfter 
the  jewels.  I  admit  it.  And  I  took  Eliza  to  the  theatre, 
but  I  never  did  her,  and  I  never  meant  her,  any  harm. 
As  for  the  jewels  I  had  a  right  to  take  'em." 

"O,  Tom !"  groaned  his  father. 

"I'll  never  speak  to  you  again !"  cried  Harriet.  "Wot 
a  beast.     You  might  have  taken  my  dogcollar!" 

Mr.  Tom  he  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
with  his  hair  rumpled  and  his  eyes  red  and  glassy. 

"Yes,"  he  says,  "They're  my  jewels  bought  with  my 
money,"  says  he.  "I've  found  out  about  this  dirty 
*T.  T.'  business  and  how  you  and  O'Connor  boosted 
the  market  to  get  in  the  suckers.  And  you  got  $35,000 
belonging  to  me!     You  cheated  your  own  son  along 

124 


I  TURN  DETECTIVE 

with  the  rest.  Who's  the  crook,  I'd  like  to  know? 
I  leave  it  to  you,  Ketchem.  Who's  the  biggest  thief — 
my  father  or  me?  And  you  even  used  your  servant 
to  deceive  a  lot  of  helpless  boys  around  in  a  broker's 
office.  Honesty!  Honesty!  I'm  through  with  the 
whole  rotten  business.  I'm  sick  of  seeing  the  money 
spait  in  this  house.  I'm  sick  of  my  own  silly  exist- 
ence!"   He  puts  his  hands  over  his  face  and  sobbed. 

Mr.  Carter  had  sunk  down  into  his  chair  so  he 
looked  like  a  poor  old  man,  and  everything  looked 
sort  of  blurred  to  me,  and  I  heard  Miss  Patricia  say: 

"Eliza,  will  you  look  arfter  Ridges,  please?  And 
see  that  he  gets  safely  to  his  room?" 

"Yes,  Miss!"  says  Eliza,  and  with  Mr.  Ketchem's 
assistance  I  got  to  my  feet,  and  she  put  her  arm  around 
me  and  helped  me  through  the  door,  but  my  head  was 
that  whirly  I  didn't  notice  much  just  then  and  I  don't 
know  how  I  got  hupstairs. 

And  that  was  the  last  I  ever  saw  of  Mr.  Tom. 


125 


VII 


REAL  SWELLS  AND  OTHERS 

It  has  sometimes  occurred  to  me  that  it  is  better 
to  be  a  first-class  servant  than  a  second-class  swell. 
I  am  sure  Mr.  Amos  would  say  so,  for  he  is  a  philos- 
opher and  likewise  a  man  of  letters.  To  be  both  of 
these  is  to  be  rich  indeed,  for  with  books  we  hardly 
have  need  of  friends,  and  with  philosophy  we  have  need 
of  nothing.  Yet  many  has  to  make  a  show  of  being 
"smart,"  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  who  was  clearly 
intended  by  God  and  nature  for  some  different  or 
lower  order,  yet  being  born  into  wealth  they  are  com- 
pelled to  spend  useless  lives  trying  to  appear  to  be  wot 
they  are  not  when  they  might  be  happy  as  the  wives 
and  husbands  of  hard-working  men  and  women. 

For  example,  Miss  Harriet.  She  has  enough  sense 
to  run  a  small  flat  and  keep  track  of  the  ice  and  milk 
bills,  and  she  would  make  a  hit  as  the  Lady  President 
of  the  Female  Literary  Circle  of  some  small  town  in 
the  provinces,  but  she  has  no  more  idea  of  real  gentility 
nor  harf  so  much  as  Aunty  Morgan  who  has  lived  in 
many  of  the  best  American  families  and  is  a  good  deal 
of  a  lady  herself.     But  Miss  Harriet  spends  to  my 

126 


REAL  SWELLS  AND  OTHERS 

knowledge,  because  Eliza  told  me,  hup  wards  of  seven 
thousand  a  year  for  her  clothes  and  loses  about  a 
hundred  and  fifty  a  week  at  Bridge,  and  has  dyspepsia 
four  days  out  of  seven.  She  is  handsome  in  the  way 
the  girls  is  handsome  that  carry  the  spears  in  the  front 
row  at  the  Hippydrome  and  James  is  quite  stuck  on 
her,  but  she  has  not  harf  as  much  chance  of  marrying 
a  gentleman  as  Evelyn  Ra)miond  and  I  guess  she  knows 
it,  for  if  Evelyn  or  Eliza  was  turned  loose  at  one  of 
our  swarees  they  would  have  all  the  favors.  She  will 
go  on  to  her  big  subscription  dances  and  Bridge  parties 
and  afternoon  teas  until  she  is  sixty  years  old  and  be 
miserable  and  sour  all  her  life  when  she  would  be 
perfectly  happy  as  the  wife  of  an  aberdasher  in  a 
rural  village,  where  she  belongs  by  inheritance. 

Now  Miss  Patricia  was  born  a  swell  and  Aunty 
Morgan  says  she  was  a  little  lady  from  the  moment 
she  was  shifted  over  to  the  bottle  and  got  a  chance. 
You  can  never  tell  where  the  real  swells  come  from  or 
where  you  will  find  them. 

I  have  seen  sailors  on  our  yacht  who  were  real 
swells,  and  one  of  the  finest  gentlemen  who  comes  to 
the  house  is  the  son  of  a  plain  farmer  in  Nova  Scotia, 
but  I  never  saw  a  coachman  that  I  thought  was  a 
swell,  because  a  coachman  looks  too  much  like  a  carrot, 
although  there  are  grooms  who  if  they  was  dressed 
proper  could  do  a  walking  part  at  one  of  Mrs.  Carter's 
balls,  and  no  one  ever  know  the  difference. 

127 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

It  is  hard  to  say  wot  makes  a  man  or  a  woman  a 
swell,  but  there  is  something  and  it  does  not  depend  on 
birth,  or  wealth,  or  looks,  or  brains.    And  while  I  am 
on  it  I  might  as  well  say  that  I  have  concluded  that  all 
this  talk  about  brains  being  the  only  thing  that  counts 
is  rot,  for  some  of  the  meanest,  shoddiest  people  I  know 
has  plenty  of  them,  and  they  are  cheap  enough  in  New 
York.     Looks  have  something  to  do  with  it  although 
a  hunchback  can  be  a  fine  gentleman.    Birth  may  have 
something,  but  not  often  in  the  case  of  a  man.    Wealth 
can  do  a  lot,  but  it  cannot  make  a  silk  purse  out  of  a 
sow's  ear;  and  brains  can  help.     But  it  is  neither  one 
nor  the  other  nor  yet  all — for  a  man  may  have  birth, 
wealth,  looks  and  brains  and  be  a  rotter    It  is  some- 
thing else  and  you  can  call  it  anything  you  please,  but 
if  you  haven't  got  it  you  might  as  well  give  up  trying. 
That  is  one  of  the  chief  reasons  why  all  this  social 
striving  is  so  useless.     People  think  that  being  swell 
depends  on  how  much  money  you  have  and  how  many 
houses  and  motors  and  so  on  and  so  forth,  whereas  it 
simply  turns  on  whether  you  are  a  gentleman  or  a 
lady  in  the  first  place,  and  maybe  you  are  and  maybe 
you  are  not,  and  that  rests  with  the  Almighty  entire. 

But  many  that  have  no  hope  of  ever  being  real  swells 
are  perfectly  content  to  be  near-swells  so  long  as  they 
can  associate  with  swell  people,  and  do  not  care  wot 
they  really  are  so  long  as  the  world  takes  them  for  wot 
they  are  not.    And  this  desire  for  social  advancement, 

128 


REAL  SWELLS  AND  OTHERS 

while  you  see  it  everywhere,  is  worse  in  America  than 
anywhere  else  because  the  Americans  take  everything 
they  do  so  much  more  serious  than  other  people.  I 
have  observed  that  in  England  and  France  and  Italy, 
when  I  have  been  out  with  Lord  Craven,  people  go  into 
society  to  amuse  theirselves  and  have  a  good  time,  and 
whether  they  do  it  proper  or  not  they  certainly  have 
it,  but  in  America  the  chief  object  of  people  is  not  to 
amuse  theirselves  but  to  better  their  social  position  and 
they  go  at  it  just  as  strenuous  as  they  build  railroads 
or  sell  stocks.  Instead  of  growing  fat  and  lazy  they  get 
thin  and  peevish,  and  the  end  of  their  social  career  is 
generally  in  a  sanatarium. 

It  is  extraordinary  how  many  ladies  in  America, 
who  are  trying  to  get  on,  break  down  and  either  go 
mad  entire  or  tempory.  I  never  knew  any  English 
lady  who  got  that  way,  and  the  reason  over  here  is 
that  they  eat  too  much  and  sleep  too  little  and  keep  on 
the  go  every  minute  so  as  people  will  know  they  are 
the  real  thing,  which  ten  to  one  they  are  not  at  all.  And 
they  take  it  so  serious  no  wonder  they  get  only  to  be 
skin  and  bones  and  indigestive.  Why,  when  a  lady 
goes  to  a  ball  in  New  York  she  takes  her  life  in  her 
hand.  And  when  a  stock-broker  has  a  chance  to  meet 
a  rich  swell  he  sinks  his  teeth  in  him  so  hard  you  can 
lift  him  orf  his  feet  and  swing  him  round  and  he  won't 
let  go  until  you  throw  ice  water  on  his  head  like  a  bull- 
dog. 

129 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

There  is  even  a  doctor  over  here  as  earns  his  living 
by  recuperating  ladies  who  have  lost  their  health 
through  nervous  indigestion  and  he  makes  a  pile  of 
money,  so  they  say,  by  merely  exploring  their  stomachs 
with  a  little  electric  light  and  feeding  them  on  pip- 
tonized  milk  at  an  hotel. 

It  is  enough  to  make  you  sick  to  see  people  toadying 
around  to  other  rich  people  that  they  think  stand  a 
little  higher  than  they  do.  And  it  is  shocking  how 
they  will  lie  to  get  out  of  one  engagement  in  order  to 
accept  another  they  think  is  better.  I  have  known  Miss 
Harriet  to  break  five  engagements  one  arfter  another 
just  so  as  she  could  go  to  a  sixth  which  in  the  end 
was  given  up  by  the  lady  who  had  sent  the  invitation 
so  that  she  could  accept  another  herself.  So  it  ended 
by  Miss  Harriet  staying  at  home  and  reading  a  book 
which  no  fit  woman  should  read,  and  I  was  afraid  Miss 
Patricia  would  find  it. 

Now  I  have  looked  into  it  careful  and  have  no  hesi- 
tation in  saying  that  the  number  of  people  in  New  York 
who  feel  sure  enough  of  their  social  position  to  do 
what  they  choose  and  associate  with  those  they  like, 
is  so  small  as  almost  not  to  count.  Everybody  does  the 
things  and  cultivates  the  people  that  will,  as  they  think, 
help  them  along.  Where  ?  God  knows !  To  the  poor- 
house,  the  lunatic  asylum  and  the  home  for  the  aged 
and  useless  rich,  I  fancy.  A  butler  can  see  and  hear  a 
lot  that's  not  spoke  in  words.     It  is  enough  to  make 

130 


REAL  SWELLS  AND  OTHERS 

your  blood  boil  to  see  nice  people  snubbed  and  slighted 
by  their  friends  for  nothing  at  all.  Take  one  of  Mrs. 
Carter's  teas.  Now  she  has  an  old  friend  "Mamie" 
Jones  who  comes  from  Piqua  too  and  who  married  a 
rich  man  but  is  not  quite  "up  to  sample,"  as  they  say 
over  here.  Does  Mrs.  Carter  talk  to  her  ?  Not  much ! 
"O,  how  dy  do,"  she  says  quite  languid,  looking  at 
someone  else,  and  then  she  adds  sudden  "Excuse  me, 
I  must  speak  to  Mrs.  Castor,"  and  Mrs.  Caster  is  prob- 
ably some  high  roller,  who  comes  to  Mrs.  Carter's 
because  she  amuses  her  for  a  week  or  so.  Well,  if  Mrs. 
Jones  had  the  strength  of  mind  to  go  home  and  say 
no  more  about  it  you  would  not  blame  her.  But  wot 
does  she  do?  She  clings  hold  of  Mrs.  Carter's  hand 
and  says,  "O,  there  is  Mrs.  Castor  to  be  sure!"  she 
says,  "Do  introduce  me,  Maria  dear!"  Well,  Mrs. 
Carter  is  annoyed  dreadful,  but  she  cannot  refuse  be- 
cause she  knows  if  she  does  Mrs.  Jones  will  spread  it 
around  that  her  father's  business  was  really  confec- 
tionery with  drugs  on  the  side  instead  of  an  apothe- 
cary with  a  candy  counter,  who  is  alive  yet.  And  Mrs. 
Jones  is  looking  at  her  with  glistening  eyes  as  much 
as  to  say,  "Don't  you  dare  to  refuse.  If  you  do,  you 
know  what  I  will  do."  So  Mrs.  Carter  gets  hold  of 
Mrs.  Castor  and  says  very  quick,  "Excuse  me  but  I 
have  got  to  introduce  Mrs.  Jones  to  you.  I  can't  get 
out  of  it."  Well,  Mrs.  Castor  smiles  and  says,  "Why 
should  you?    I'm  sure  I  am  very  glad  to  meet  any  of 

131 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

your  friends,"  and  Mrs.  Carter  has  no  time  to  ex- 
plain that  she  is  not  a  friend  but  only  a  sort  of  rela- 
tion and  simply  has  to  bite  her  lips  when  Mrs.  Jones 
comes  smirking  .up  and  she  clasps  the  hand  of  royalty. 
O  my!  How  happy  she  is!  How  she  thrills!  And 
how  she  gags  so  she  can't  speak !  Then  orf  she  rushes 
to  make  a  lot  of  calls  and  everywhere  she  goes  she  says, 
"As  Mrs.  Castor  said  to  me  this  afternoon,  the  straight 
front  is  going  to  be  all  the  rage  this  year."  Now  the 
fact  that  she  actually  did  finally  meet  Mrs.  Castor  may 
be  the  ruin  of  her  and  her  husband,  for  soon  they  may 
be  losing  their  health  and  stealing  trust  funds  in  order 
to  take  advantage  of  it. 

And  you  can  mostly  see  it  at  dinners.  Does  people 
invite  those  they  like,  or  who  amuse  them  or  who  think 
as  they  do  ?  Certain  not !  They  ask  people  who  will 
invite  them  in  return  with  sweller  people  than  they 
know  now.  Do  they  ask  their  old  friends  imth  the 
swell  people?  No,  they  have  got  all  they  can  out  of 
their  old  friends  and  they  are  not  swell  enough  for  the 
new  people  to  meet,  and  they  must  not  let  the  swell 
people  know  that  they  have  any  friends  except  swell 
people,  so  they  ask  a  lot  of  folks  who  are  almost 
strangers  to  them  and  like  enough  to  each  other,  and 
the  dinner  is  dull  and  dismal  and  dreary.  And  they 
would  die  rather  than  ask  a  relation.  The  only  use 
of  relations  in  New  York  is  to  insult  them. 

Now  real  swells  are  for  the  most  part  simple  enough 

132 


REAL  SWELLS  AND  OTHERS 

and  merely  bent  on  having  the  best  possible  time  with 
the  least  amount  of  trouble.  They  do  not  have  to 
make  a  display  or  do  a  lot  of  entertaining,  because 
they  have  nothing  to  gain  by  it,  so  they  do  as  they 
please  and  associate  with  the  friends  they  like,  and 
their  only  fault  is  that  they  are  selfish  and  lazy.  But 
wot  chance  has  Mrs.  Carter  or  anybody  else  to  get  to 
know  them?  None  at  all — not  if  she  had  a  hundred 
millions.  They  don't  need  her  and  they  don't  want  her. 
Even  if  she  got  to  know  them  she  has  nothing  to  offer 
them,  and  even  if  she  was  a  lady  which  she  is  not,  and 
could  amuse  them  for  a  while,  they  would  drop  her 
like  a  shot  just  as  soon  as  the  newness  wore  orf.  Even 
if  they  did  not  drop  her  they  would  take  no  trouble 
about  her,  for  the  swells  never  take  any  trouble  about 
anybody.  They  may  have  intimate  friends  who  they 
have  known  all  their  life,  from  childhood  up,  but 
they  never  go  to  see  them — the  friends  are  the  ones 
who  have  to  do  the  running  and  the  standing  round 
waiting  for  orders.  They  never  answer  letters  or  in- 
vitations and  the  only  way  anyone  can  find  out  if  they 
are  coming  to  dinner  or  not  is  to  telephone  and  see 
if  they  are  in  the  country,  and  if  not,  to  inquire  if 
they  would  excuse  your  asking  if  they  intend  to  dine 
with  you.  Probably  they  will  never  dine  with  you 
at  all  or  come  to  visit  you  or  even  call,  but  they  will 
invite  you  a  dozen  times  and  then  call  it  orf  if  not  con- 
venient.   If  you  expect  to  retain  your  self-respect  put 

133 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

no  confidence  in  them  unless  you  are  one  of  them  and 
can  answer  them  back. 

We  do  a  lot  of  entertaining  at  our  house  in  town 
but  not  so  much  as  at  The  Beeches  for  it  is  a  fact 
that  a  lot  of  people  who  haven't  time  to  bother  much 
with  Mrs.  Carter  in  the  winter  take  more  interest  in 
her  as  soon  as  it  begins  to  get  hot  and  uncomfortable  in 
the  city.  And  that  is  the  best  time  to  tell  whether  peo- 
ple are  real  swells  or  not,  for  it  is  on  a  house  party 
that  they  has  time  to  show  their  real  character,  par- 
ticular so  in  regard  to  giving  tips  to  those  who  have 
waited  on  them.  It  is  not  so  much  how  much  they 
give  but  how  they  do  it,  and  a  woman  as  Is  not  a  lady 
will  show  it  every  time  she  hands  you  a  five-dollar  note. 
Why  the  way  some  people  give  tips  is  enough  to  make 
you  disgusted  with  human  nature.  They  act  as  if  they 
was  suspected  of  crime  or  had  left  a  undiscovered  mur- 
der hupstairs  in  their  trunk.  People  who  is  quite  in- 
dependent at  other  times  look  like  school  children  caught 
playing  hooky  when  they  have  to  go  and  pass  me  in 
the  hall. 

Now  a  high  class  servant  figures  on  his  tips  just 
as  much  as  a  cook  does  on  her  drippings  or  a  house- 
maid on  her  outings,  and  besides  it  is  a  sign  that  the 
guest  is  satisfied  and  there  is  pleasant  relations  in  the 
house  between  everybody.  A  real  gentleman  or  a  lady 
will  always  tip  you  and  tip  you  right,  but  the  people  who 
has  got  their  money  sudden  or  isn't  used  to  good  society 

134 


REAL  SWELLS  AND  OTHERS 

is  just  as  likely  to  hand  you  silver  as  a  twenty-dollar 
note  or  even  more  so.  Now  you  do  not  expect  silver 
in  England  except  from  very  young  lads  or  gentlemen 
who  cannot  afford  to  bring  down  their  own  valets  and 
you  can  be  sure  of  at  least  ten  bob  from  every  one 
who  comes  down  from  Friday  until  Monday.  If  they 
stay  a  week  instead  of  over  Sunday  you  will  get  double 
that,  and  from  talking  with  other  men  in  service  I 
should  say  that  one  might  expect  about  the  same  rates 
in  the  big  houses  in  this  country — ^that  is  to  say  two 
or  three  dollars  for  each  couple  or  single  person  over 
the  week  end.  But  this  does  not  include  bounders  and 
rich  swells  who  will  never  give  a  butler  or  groom  of 
the  chambers  less  than  a  guinea  in  England  or  a  five- 
dollar  note  in  this  country,  no  matter  how  short  their 
stay  may  be.  Of  course,  with  royalty  it  is  different, 
and  His  Royal  Highness  gave  orders  to  donate  me 
a  five-pound  note  when  he  stayed  at  Craven  Hall  for 
five  days,  which  was  handed  to  me  by  Mr.  Gray  Whit- 
ney, his  secretary,  and  I  have  it  yet  in  the  bottom  of 
my  box. 

Now  at  some  very  swell  establishments  the  hupper 
servants  put  on  a  good  deal  of  side  which  I  consider 
very  bad  form,  and  this  is  apt  to  be  the  case  with 
ducal  houses,  but  not  royal  dukes.  I  know  one  fellow 
as  used  to  be  a  ostler's  boy  when  he  was  a  lad  at  the 
Blue  Peacock  Tavern,  and  who  got  employment  at 
Tattersall's  and  from  that  on  to  the  track  and  in  with 

135 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

the  breeders  and  racing  people  and  is  now  Equerry 
to  the  Duke  of  Blenheim.  Well,  some  American  peo- 
ple came  to  visit  His  Grace  and  McGuinness  (the 
"Equerry")  showed  them  the  stables  and  had  a  stallion 
trotted  round  the  paddock  on  the  end  of  a  leader  for 
them  to  see,  but  nothing  else;  so  when  they  went  to 
leave  the  gentleman  thought  he  would  show  his  ap- 
preciation and  offered  McGuinness  two  golden  sov.,  but 
McGuinness  waved  them  aside  and  shook  his  head 
with  a  superior  gester  and  says  "No  thankee,  sir,  I 
never  touch  anything  but  paper."  But  the  gentleman 
was  the  right  stuff  and  gave  him  a  good  dressing  down 
then  and  there  for  being  a  impudent  servant  and  re- 
ported him  to  His  Grace  who  gave  him  the  sack  and 
served  him  right. 

Now  a  serving  man  cares  less  for  what  he  gets 
than  for  being  remembered  and  receiving  credit  as  a 
human,  and  a  smile  and  a  pleasant  word  is  often  worth 
as  much  to  him  when  he  is  feeling  down  on  his  luck 
as  a  gold  coin.  If  he  feels  that  a  person  cannot  but  ill 
spare  the  money  he  would  rather  not  have  it  at  all, 
and  he  sometimes  does  not  get  it  in  any  case.  It  is 
surprising  how  many  people  rush  away  at  the  last 
minute  Monday  morning  and  forget  to  tip  anybody, 
and  some  skulks  in  their  room  until  no  one  is  around 
and  then  slips  out  sudden  or  goes  orf  by  the  veranda 
door.  If  a  man  or  a  woman  is  mean  at  heart  the 
servant  is  the  one  who  suffers  from  it,  for  they  will 

136 


REAL  SWELLS  AND  OTHERS 

decide  how  little  they  can  give  you  and  then  cut  it  in 
harf  and  then  act  as  if  they  was  being  blackmailed 
when  they  hand  it  over.  Often  I  would  have  liked 
to  throw  their  dirty  money  back  at  them. 

Once  a  man  who  was  worth  twenty  million  dollars 
came  and  stayed  ten  days  with  us  and  gave  me  a  quar- 
ter when  he  went  away,  and  that  is  a  fact  also.  I 
have  it  in  my  box  of  curiosities  along  with  one  of 
Mr.  Hunter's  waistcoat  buttons  with  the  royal  im- 
print, that  fell  into  the  soup. 

Now  you  might  think  that  I  was  making  fun  but  it 

is  only  the  sad  truth,  and  when  all  is  said  and  done  the 

tips  a  man  gets  will  never  make  him  a  millionaire.     In 

a  big  house  he  can  double  his  wages  spring  and  autumn 

but  it  is  at  an  enormous  cost  to  his  respect  for  human 

nature.   It  has  often  occurred  to  me  that  if  some  butler 

that  knows  would  only  publish  a  schedule  of  the  tips 

which  are  usually  given  and  expected  in  swell  houses 

in  this  country  he  would  be  conferring  a  favor  all 

around  and  I  should  divide  them  into  classes  according 

to  the  length  of  the  visit,  thus : 

Week 
For  the  Butler  Week  or  Ten  Month 

END     Days 
Ordinary,  Single  ladies  and  gentlemen  $2.00    $  5.00    $10.00 

Ordinary,  Married  couples 3.00     5-$io       io-$iS 

Rich  swells,  brides  and  grooms,  distin- 
guished foreigners,  politicians  and 

brokers      5.00       10.00       i5-$25 

Clergy,   continental   nobility  and  de- 
cayed relations i.oo        2.50        3.50 

137 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

Now  the  second-man  as  does  your  valetting  deserves 
as  much  as  the  butler  and  so  does  the  ladies'  maid,  but 
if  you  think  you  have  got  to  tip  everybody  in  the  house 
you  are  entirely  mistaken  and  show  you  are  not  to  the 
manner  born.   You  should  remember  (in  America)  : 

(i)  The  Butler. 

(2)  The  valet  or  maid,  if  you  stay  only  for  the  week  end;  if 

you  come  for  a  longer  visit  you  should  include, 

(3)  The  outside  man  as  attends  to  your  luggage, 

(4)  The  groom  of  the  chambers  (if  there  is  any), 

(5)  The  coachman,  and 

(6)  The  chambermaid. 

Silver  will  do  for  the  outside  man  in  England  and  a 
dollar  over  here.  And  there  you  are,  and  if  you  go 
throwing  your  money  around  anywhere  else  they  will 
think  you  are  from  Pittsburgh. 

Once  on  a  Monday  morning  when  we  was  standing 
in  the  front  hall  waiting  for  an  old  gentleman  with 
the  gout  who  was  very  grumpy  Mr.  Amos  whispered 
back  to  me  that  he  would  lay  five  dollars  the  old  boy 
would  pass  me  by.  Now  it  so  happened  that  he  had 
used  very  hard  words  to  me  by  reason  of  being  in  pain 
the  night  before  and  when  he  came  along  he  stopped 
and  made  a  sort  of  grimace  and  handed  me  a  twenty- 
dollar  note.  I  heard  Mr.  Amos  whistle  under  his  breath 
but  he  gave  me  the  five  dollars  arfterwards  and  said 
you  never  could  tell  when  Northern  Pacific  would  de- 
clare a  extra  dividend.    But  I  feel  that  this  is  a  sordid 

138 


REAL  SWELLS  AND  OTHERS 

subject,  only  it  would  not  be  so  if  people  used  a  little 
thought  fulness  and  common-sense  about  it. 

The  guests  at  an  house  party  are  apt  to  be  very 
much  alike  from  one  week  end  to  another  and  frequent 
repeat  theirselves,  and  there  are  two  classes  which  to 
me  are  especial  obnoxious,  namely,  wot  Miss  Patricia 
calls  the  Bores  and  the  Fresh  Johnnies.  The  Bores  you 
have  always  with  you,  and  so  far  as  that  goes  you 
have  the  Johnnies  also  but  not  so  persistent.  The  Bores 
are  always  invited  everywhere  because  you  can  always 
rely  on  them  to  fill  up  at  the  last  minute  and  not  to  do 
anything  objectionable.  But  I  am  often  surprised  that 
they  are  invited  at  all  because  how  anyone  could  get 
any  pleasure  from  their  society  is  beyond  me,  not  to  say 
incredulous.  The  Bores  always  calls  most  assiduous 
and  you  can  figure  on  each  of  them  getting  around 
about  once  in  two  weeks,  and  they  always  call  when 
the  ladies  is  sure  to  be  at  home,  in  which  they  differ 
from  the  Fresh  Johnnies  who  only  call  when  the  ladies 
is  sure  to  be  out,  if  they  call  at  all  which  is  seldom. 

There  is  one  gentleman  who  I  am  sure  prepares 
everything  that  he  is  going  to  say  before  he  starts 
out,  and  I  am  willing  to  wager  he  says  the  same  thing 
wherever  he  goes.  He  rarely  eats  anything  at  dinner 
and  when  he  gets  to  the  roast  no  matter  if  he  is  in 
the  middle  of  a  sentence  or  telling  one  of  his  anecdotes 
he  simply  turns  his  back  on  the  lady  he  is  talking  to 
and  begins  to  talk  to  the  one  on  the  other  side,  begin- 

139 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

ning  at  the  beginning  again.  I  discovered  this  once 
at  a  dinner  at  our  house  where  he  sat  between  Mrs. 
Carter  and  Miss  Patricia.  He  started  in  with  Mrs. 
Carter. 

**It  is  really  astonishing,"  he  says,  "the  antagonism 
to  the  President  in  Wall  Street,"  he  says.  "I  was 
speaking  the  other  day  to  a  prominent  banker  who 
remarked " 

Then  I  lost  wot  he  was  saying  because  I  had  passed 
on,  and  when  I  came  around  with  the  white  wine  he 
was  telling  Mrs.  Carter  a  story  of  a  Bishop  at  a  chris- 
tening and  he  says,  "And  the  good  Bishop  didn't  know 

whether  it  was  a  boy  or  a  girl  so  he "    Well  I 

didn't  think  anything  of  it  until  I  was  passing  the 
champagne  and  when  I  got  to  the  gentleman  in  ques- 
tion he  was  saying  something  about  the  opera  to  Mrs. 
Carter  and  who  was  going  to  be  the  new  director,  and 
all  of  a  sudden  he  turns  and  begins  on  Miss  Patricia. 

"It  is  really  astonishing,"  he  says,  "the  antagonism 
to  the  President  in  Wall  Street,"  he  says.  "I  was 
speaking  the  other  day  to  a  prominent  banker  who 
remarked " 

Well,  I  almost  smiled  but  not  quite,  and  if  you  will 
believe  me  when  I  came  around  with  the  claret  he  was 
just   saying  "And  the  good   Bishop   did  not   know 

whether  it  was  a  boy  or  a  girl  so  he "   Well  that 

is  how  that  gentleman  gets  along  for  he  talks  all  the 
time  even  if  ungrammatical,  and  he  never  says  any- 

140 


REAL  SWELLS  AND  OTHERS 

thing  which  will  give  offence  to  anybody,  so  you  see  him 
at  all  the  teas  and  receptions  and  dances  and  at  every- 
thing except  the  swellest  dinners. 

Now  there  is  lots  of  others  just  like  him  and  they 
only  differ  in  the  way  they  do  it.  One  makes  a  specialty 
of  art,  although  I  do  not  really  believe  he  knows  much 
about  it,  but  he  has  read  two  or  three  books  and  he 
is  always  telling  the  ladies  wot  is  in  them  about  this 
and  that  and  the  other  thing,  and  so  they  all  imagine 
that  he  is  quite  the  cheese  on  that  subject.  But  Mr. 
Amos  says  he  does  not  know  enough  to  go  in  when 
it  rains  about  anything,  and  I  will  take  Mr.  Amos's 
word  on  that. 

There  is  another  one  who  knows  the  plots  of  all 
the  operas  and  when  each  composer  was  born  and  when 
he  died  and  how  many  times  he  was  married  and  how 
many  children  he  had.  There  is  another  who  can  do 
eight  different  card  tricks  and  several  more  with  a  hand- 
kerchief and  a  piece  of  string  to  say  nothing  of  one 
with  a  glass  of  water  and  a  cane,  and  he  is  a  great 
success  you  may  be  sure.  And  there  is  another  that 
collects  funny  stories  and  puts  them  in  a  book  with 
a  index  which  he  keeps  in  his  pocket  and  sometimes  in 
his  cuff,  and  I  have  seen  him  take  it  out  on  the  sly 
when  both  of  the  ladies  he  was  between  was  engaged 
in  conversation  and  cram  up.  Another  time  when  he 
was  there  it  slipped  out  of  his  sleeve  on  to  the  floor 

141 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY  / 

and  James  picked  it  up,  and  I  found  him  laughing  fit  to 
burst  in  the  pantry  after  dinner  and  he  says : 

*'My  eye,"  he  says,  ''did  you  ever  read  anything  like 
that !"  says  he.  And  he  had  the  little  book  open  at  "B" 
where  the  gentleman  had  written  '^Bad  Stories."  And 
I  must  say  that  although  I  was  astonished  at  first  I  read 
them  all  and  nearly  died  laughing.  There  was  "Clergy- 
men Stories"  under  *'C"  and  "Doctor  Stories"  under 
"D,"  and  "Religious  Stories"  under  "R,"  only  I  did 
not  read  thein.  Well,  the  gentleman  he  missed  his  little 
book  after  he  got  back  to  the  dra wring-room  with 
the  ladies  and  was  that  oncomfortable  he  nearly  ex- 
pired and  he  could  hardly  talk,  and  although  they  asked 
him  to  tell  some  funny  stories  to  them  he  couldn't 
remember  any.  And  when  he  went  out  I  put  the  book  in 
his  hat  and  handed  it  to  him  and  he  was  the  most 
relieved  person  I  ever  see.  So  he  gave  me  five  dollars 
and  says  I  should  not  mention  the  book,  which  I  have 
not  except  to  tell  about  it  here. 

Well  you  are  apt  to  get  three  or  four  of  the  Bores 
most  any  week  down  at  The  Beeches  and  they  are 
always  the  ones  that  are  out  to  get  the  most  for  their 
money  and  will  smoke  two  cigars  to  every  other  gen- 
tleman's one  and  take  a  few  away  on  Monday  morning 
to  smoke  on  the  train  as  they  say,  but  I  guess  more 
likely  to  last  through  the  week  until  they  come  again; 
and  the  one  who  is  the  expert  on  art  is  always  forget- 
ting to  bring  his  neckties  and  silk  socks  and  borrowing 

142 


REAL  SWELLS  AND  OTHERS 

them  from  Mr.  Carter,  which  he  never  returns  and  is 
wearing  them  yet,  for  I  have  laid  out  more  than  once 
for  him  a  pair  of  orange  accordion  pleated  silk  socks 
which  cost  eight  dollars  and  which  I  borrowed  from 
Mr.  Carter  for  him  over  a  year  ago.  Now  that  comes 
pretty  near  being  petty  larceny.  But  the  Bores  differ 
from  the  Fresh  Johnnies  because  the  Bores  do  by  inten- 
tion wot  the  Fresh  Johnnies  do  by  accident. 

Most  of  these  are  young  fellows  who  are  not  such 
a  long  time  out  of  college  who  have  been  taken  up  by 
the  swell  ladies  of  society  and  think  they  are  doing 
fine  and  own  the  whole  show.  They  all  talk  very  loud 
and  are  terrible  confident  unless  someone  contradicts 
wot  they  say  and  tell  them  they  don't  know  anything, 
which  is  the  truth,  and  then  they  collapse  like  a  clam 
and  say  nothing.  I  am  always  scared  when  one  of 
them  is  sitting  next  to  Miss  Patricia  because  you  never 
can  tell  wot  they  are  going  to  say,  and  although  they 
mean  well  they  are  just  as  apt  to  say  something  orful 
as  not,  but  I  guess  Miss  Patricia  can  take  care  of  her- 
self if  anybody  can.  Now  they  are  always  forgetting 
all  their  things,  and  there  is  one  that  always  rings 
the  bell  and  says,  "Ridges,  go  and  get  me  one  of  old 
Carter's  neckties  or  his  shirt  studs  or  wot  not,"  and 
because  I  do  not  like  to  take  Mr.  Carter's  things  which 
are  so  expensive  I  have  bought  a  small  line  of  aber- 
dashery  that  this  gentleman  and  others  like  him  need 
and  when  the  valet  unlocks  their  boxes  I  look  them 

143 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

I 

over  and  see  wot  they  lack.  It  really  costs  very  little 
and  at  the  end  of  the  month  I  charge  it  to  Mr.  Carter, 
Eliza  buys  the  things  at  a  department  store,  and  she 
gets  white  ties  for  nineteen  cents  apiece  and  black  ones 
for  a  quarter  and  brass  collar  buttons  at  five  cents 
apiece,  and  underclothes  at  fifty  cents  a  pair,  socks  at 
twenty-five  cents  and  tooth  brushes  the  same.  I  sup- 
pose I  have  saved  Mr.  Carter  hundreds  of  dollars  in 
the  last  five  years.  And  this  makes  it  easy  for  nice 
young  fellows  that  have  really  meant  to  bring  their 
things  but  have  forgotten  to  do  so,  who  ring  the  bell 
and  ask  me  if  I  would  mind  lending  them  one  of  my 
own  ties  or  collar  buttons,  for  then  I  can  say  I  have 
a  few  new  ones  which  I  will  be  glad  to  let  them  have 
at  cost,  and  they  are  so  relieved  to  find  that  they  do  not 
have  to  come  down  to  dinner  without  a  collar  or 
something  that  they  usually  give  me  a  couple  of  dollars, 
which  all  goes  toward  my  publick-house  at  Wapping- 
on-Velly. 


144 


VIII 


THE   DELUGE 


"How  is  this  thing  going  to  hit  us?"  says  Mrs. 
Carter  looking  up  over  her  paper  and  taking  a  bit  of 
^gg  and  sausage. 

"Darn  if  I  know,"  says  her  husband.  "I've  shrunk 
two  or  three  millions  already,  only  they  haven't  begun 
to  cut  dividends  yet  so  it  don't  make  any  particular 
difference  in  our  income,"  he  says.  "All  the  same  I 
guess  you  and  Harriet  had  better  go  slow  for  a  while 
on  all  real  lace  gowns  and  such.  Wot  worries  me," 
he  says,  "is  these  investigations.  The  way  they  are 
going  at  things  now,  if  a  feller  has  given  the  orfice 
boy  a  five  dollar  gold  piece  at  Christmas  and  charged 
the  company  for  it  they  indite  him  for  larceny,"  he 
says. 

"Well,  you  have  never  done  anything  wrong,  have 
you,   Sam?"  says  Mrs.  Carter  suspicious-like. 

"No,  of  course  not,"  he  says,  "but  many  an  inno- 
cent man  has  suffered  for  the  sins  of  others.  The  public 
insists  on  having  victims." 

Just  then  James  came  in  and  said  there  was  a  young 
man  wanted  to  see  Mr.  Carter  most  urgent. 

145 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

"Tell  him  to  wait !"  says  Mr.  Carter. 

*'I  told  him  to  and  he  used  bad  language/'  says 
James,  "and,  if  you'll  pardon  me,  sir,  he  said  that  you 
had  better  get  a  move  on.  He  said  he  knew  you  was 
home." 

"O!"  says  Mr.  Carter,  "I  suppose  I  may  as  well 
see  him !    He  may  be  a  process  server  or  something." 

"Don't  go  near  him !"  says  Mrs.  Carter  very  anxious. 
"He  may  be  a  crank  and  shoot  you." 

But  her  husband  told  her  not  to  be  a  fool  and  how 
of  course  it  was  all  right,  but  you  had  to  be  pleasant 
and  agreeable  with  certain  kinds  of  people,  and  went 
out  to  see  wot  the  man  wanted,  and  he  was  gone  only 
a  few  minutes,  but  when  he  came  back  he  looked  five 
years  older.  So  Mrs.  Carter  noticed  how  hupset  he 
seemed  and  insisted  on  knowing  wot  the  trouble  was, 
and  he  showed  her  a  brown  slip  of  paper  and  said 
that  he  was  subpoenaed  before  that  blamed  Grand 
Jury. 

"O,  Sam!"  says  his  wife. 

"O,  it  is  nothing!"  he  says  pouring  out  more  coffee. 
"I'm  a  member  of  the  Grand  Jury  myself,"  he  says. 

"Well,"  she  says,  "maybe  it  would  have  been  better 
if  you  had  served  on  it  sometimes  instead  of  giving  that 
man  the  box  of  cigars  and  the  overcoat  every  year." 

"Wot  are  you  talking  about !"  he  growls  looking  very 
fierce  at  her. 

"Why,  don't  you  remember "  she  began,  but  he 

146 


THE  DELUGE 

shut  her  orf  quick  and  told  her  not  to  talk  so  much 
(he  was  orful  shirty  and  cross)  and  he  bolted  his  coffee 
and  stuffed  a  few  rolls  down  his  throat  and  told  me  to 
call  up  Mr.  Ketchem  on  the  telephone. 

Well,  I  was  that  uneasy  that  I  could  hardly  do  my 
work  for  I  hated  to  think  that  anything  might  happen 
to  one  of  Miss  Patricia's  family,  for  she  loves  her 
father  most  devoted,  just  as  if  he  was  a  ordinary  work- 
ing man,  and  I  was  most  anxious  to  hear  wot  Mr. 
Carter  would  say  to  Mr.  Ketchem  and  he  to  him  for  it 
was  evident  there  was  something  rotten  in  the  State  of 
Denmark  to  say  the  least.  So  in  a  couple  of  hours  Mr. 
Ketchem  arrived  in  a  brougham  and  fur  overcoat  and 
went  right  into  the  library  with  them  on  and  of  course 
I  had  to  go  along  to  help  him  orf.    So  he  says : 

"Well,  Carter,  wots  the  hurry  call?"  he  says. 

Mr.  Carter  just  shifted  his  big  cigar  and  handed  him 
the  brown  subpoena. 

"Hm!"  says  Ketchem.  "Well,  wot  are  you  going 
to  tell  'em?" 

"Hanged  if  I  know,"  says  Mr.  Carter.  "Here,  have 
a  cigar." 

"No,  thanks,"  says  Ketchem,  "I  don't  smoke  in  the 
morning." 

"Have  a  drink  then,"  he  says. 

"Don't  care  if  I  do,"  he  says. 

"Scotch  or  rye,  sir?"  I  says. 

"Scotch,"  he  says.    "Look  here,  Carter,"  he  says, 

147 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

"this  looks  serious,"  he  says.    "It  must  be  that  Tunnel 
Deal  r 

"That's  it,  fast  enough,"  says  Mr.  Carter. 

So  I  helped  Mr.  Ketchem  orf  with  his  coat  and 
fussed  around  getting  the  whisky  for  quite  a  while. 

"Well,  I  always  said  you  was  skinning  awful  close," 
says  Ketchem.  "I  merely  told  you  how  it  could  be 
done, — I  didn't  advise  it.    You  remember  that?" 

"I  don't  remember  very  clear,"  says  Mr.  Carter. 
"But  anyhow  we  dug  the  hole  and  now  the  question 
is  how  are  we  going  to  get  out  of  it." 

"Let  me  see,"  says  Mr.  Ketchem,  "There  was  Wig- 
gin,  and  Snow,  and  Bumstead  in  it,  wasn't  there? 
Well,  Wiggin  is  dead — you  can  shove  most  of  it  on 
him.'' 

Mr.  Carter  took  a  little  walk  around  the  room  before 
he  replied.    Finally  he  said: 

"I  don't  like  to  do  that,  Ketchem." 

"Well,  put  a  little  on  him,"  says  the  lawyer. 

"Wot  else  could  we  do?"  asks  Mr.  Carter. 

"Well,  the  first  thing,"  says  Ketchem,  "is  to  get  hold 
of  Snow  and  Bumstead  and  tell  'em  not  to  remember 
anything." 

"They'd  have  sense  enough  to  forget  ever)rthing 
until  they  saw  us,  anyway,"  says  Mr.  Carter.  "I  tell 
you  wot.  You  go  over  to  Boston  to  see  'em  while  I  go 
before  the  Grand  Jury." 

148 


THE  DELUGE 

"Can't/*  says  Ketchem.  "IVe  got  a  subpoena  my- 
self,'* he  says. 

"Damn!"  says  Mr.  Carter. 

"I  tell  you  we're  up  against  it,"  says  Ketchem,  "and 
we've  got  to  be  mighty  leery." 

"It  looks  like  it,"  says  Mr.  Carter. 

"Yes,"  says  his  lawyer,  "and  the  way  things  is  now 
you've  got  to  give  the  impression  of  being  willing  to 
talk  even  if  you're  not,"  he  says. 

"That  is  bad !"  says  Mr.  Carter. 

"Well,  you  can  talk  about  anything  that  don't  count," 
says  Ketchem.  "And  just  forget  on  the  important 
things.  Take  my  advice,"  says  Ketchem,  "and  put  it 
on  Wiggin.   Dead  men  tell  no  tales,"  he  says. 

"It  would  be  a  low  down  dirty  trick !"  says  Mr.  Carter 
rather  nervous. 

"Well,  it  would  be  better  than  going  to  jail,"  says 
Ketchem. 

"There's  no  fear  of  that,  is  there?"  asks  Mr.  Carter. 

"They  just  convicted  Miller,  didn't  they?"  says 
Ketchem.  "And  all  he  did  was  to  overcertify  an  account 
by  a  couple  of  hundred  thousand.  You  can't  tell  wot 
may  happen,  these  days.  If  they  got  a  chance  they 
would  convict  an  archbishop  of  forgery." 

"Well,  we  must  get  into  communication  with  Boston 
at  once,"  says  Mr.  Carter. 

"There's  another  thing,"  says  Ketchem.  "You  had 
better  retain  a  regular  criminal  lawyer  besides,"  he  says. 

149 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

"No  civil  practitioner  knows  anything  about  it,  and  I 
have  never  had  a  criminal  case  in  my  life.  Take  my 
advice  and  get  the  best  one  there  is."  Then  he  sees  me 
fussing  around  by  the  door  and  he  says,  "What's 
Ridges  doing  there  ?"  he  says.  "He'd  better  get  out  of 
here,"  he  says. 

So  I  had  to  go  out,  and  although  I  would  have  given 
my  ears  to  hear  more,  that  was  all  I  caught. 

Well,  you  may  be  sure  there  was  great  excitement 
downstairs  at  noon  for  James  had  told  everybody  about 
Mr.  Carter's  subpoena  and  all  the  servants  was  sure 
that  they  would  be  out  of  a  place  for  he  would  have 
to  go  to  prison.  James  said  as  how  the  Grand  Jury 
was  used  only  to  try  men  as  had  committed  orrid  feloni- 
ous crimes  and  Mr.  Carter  must  be  far  different  from 
wot  he  seemed,  and  another  of  the  men  was  positive 
that  if  you  once  got  in  you  would  never  get  out.  Poor 
old  Aunty  Robinson  was  that  hupset  she  couldn't  eat 
and  was  on  the  edge  of  crying  all  the  time.  She  said 
it  was  dreadful  to  think  of  anyone  belonging  to  Miss 
Patricia  having  to  go  to  prison.  Well,  I  said  he  didn't 
have  to  go  to  prison  just  because  he  was  summoned, 
but  they  all  said  I  was  wrong  and  that  you  might  be 
called  for  a  regular  jury  and  get  orf,  but  it  was  dif- 
ferent with  grand  juries,  and  Evelyn  said  the  only 
way  to  get  out  of  it  was  to  say  that  if  you  told  any- 
thing it  would  degrade  and  discriminate  you,  and  that 
if  you  said  that,  they  would  lock  you  up  anyway.  They 

ISO 


THE  DELUGE 

all  agreed  there  was  very  little  hope  for  him  and  as  I 
did  not  know  much  about  it  I  began  to  feel  pretty  well 
down  myself.  I  did  not  know  wot  he  had  done  but  I 
said  I  was  sure  there  was  no  malice  or  premeditation  in 
it.  Then  one  of  them  said  that  if  you  stole  with  malice 
you  had  a  malicious  prosecution,  while  if  you  stole  with 
deliberation  and  premeditation  it  was  larceny,  but  just 
ordinary  stealing  was  theft.  It  didn't  sound  exactly 
right  but  I  let  it  pass  for  I  didn't  want  no  argumentum 
with  them  and  about  arf  arfter  four  o'clock  the  evening 
papers  came  and  there  it  all  was : 

CARTER  CALLED  BEFORE  GRAND  JURY 

Tunnel  Deal  Under  Investigation 
Indictments  Expected  Soon 

And  about  four  columns  telling  all  about  how  Mr. 
Carter  and  Mr.  Wiggin  and  the  others  had  got  up  this 
company  and  made  the  capital  of  it  several  millions 
when  all  they  had  was  some  sort  of  permission  to  dig 
a  tunnel  that  had  never  been  dug,  and  then  how  they 
had  sold  that  company  to  another  company  for  about 
twice  that,  and  the  other  company  had  sold  all  the  stock 
to  widows  and  orphans.  It  was  very  confusing  and 
mixed  up,  but  the  idea  seemed  to  be  that  Mr.  Carter 
and  his  friends  had  got  a  lot  of  money  for  nothing  at 
all  and  that  if  they  hadn't  committed  any  crime  they 
ought  to  have.    We  all  felt  orful  about  it  and  James 

151 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

said  he  guessed  it  was  time  for  any  respectable  man  to 
leave  the  house  but  I  told  him  to  hold  his  tongue  for 
a  stupid  ass  and  learn  not  to  believe  everything  he 
reads  in  the  papers. 

That  night  at  dinner  we  had  a  terrible  scene,  for  Mr. 
Carter  came  in  all  aggard  and  tired  and  threw  himself 
into  a  chair  and  called  for  a  glass  of  whisky  and  then 
Mrs.  Carter  and  Miss  Harriet  came  in  and  nobody  said 
a  word  for  a  long  time.  Then  Miss  Harriet  says : 

"Have  you  seen  the  papers?" 

Mr.  Carter  shook  his  head  and  says: 

"No,  I  have  had  enough  without  reading  the  papers." 

"Well,"  says  Miss  Harriet,  "I  would  like  to  know 
wot  I  am  to  tell  my  friends,"  says  she. 

Mr.  Carter  looked  at  her  and  the  veins  in  his  fore- 
head sort  of  swelled  out  and  he  started  to  speak  and 
then  he  stopped  and  shook  his  head  and  picked  up  his 
fish  as  if  he  was  going  to  eat.  But  Miss  Harriet  kept 
right  on  and  wanted  to  know  if  wot  the  papers  said 
was  true  and  that  he  had  got  up  a  bogus  company.  She 
was  that  mad  she  didn't  care  who  heard  her,  and  her 
mother  said: 

"Harriet!   O  Harriet!   Not  before  the  servants!" 

And  she  says,  "Wot  do  I  care  when  all  the  world 
knows?"  she  says. 

"Leave  the  room,"  says  Mr.  Carter  to  James  and 
me  and  when  we  had  gone  into  the  pantry  I  could  hear 
him  talking  in  a  low  tone  to  Miss  Harriet,  but  it  seems 

152 


THE  DELUGE 

it  did  not  satisfy  her  for  I  could  hear  her  voice  saying : 
''Well,  I  never  would  have  believed  it  1  I  don't  know 
wot  I  can  say  to  everybody.    I  shall  be  ashamed  to 
hold  up  my  head.    I'm  disgraced!'* 

Then  Mr.  Carter  got  hot  and  called  her  an  ungrate- 
ful child  and  first  Mrs.  Carter  sided  with  one  and 
then  with  the  other  and  they  had  an  orful  time.  And 
just  as  I  opened  the  pantry  door  a  little  crack  to  see 
if  it  was  time  to  serve  the  ontray  he  put  his  head  in 
his  hands  and  began  to  cry  and  Miss  Patricia  who  was 
late  for  dinner  came  in  just  then  and  when  she  saw 
her  father  sitting  there  all  broke  up,  and  Harriet  and 
her  mother  just  looking  at  him  cold  and  haughty,  she 
ran  and  threw  her  arms  around  him  and  got  down  on 
her  knees  and  hugged  him  and  said  how  he  was  the 
nicest  father  in  the  world  and  she  would  never  believe 
any  wrong  of  him  as  long  as  she  lived,  and  by  and  by, 
he  stopped  crying  and  patted  her  head  and  said  she 
was  a  good  girl  and  the  best  in  the  lot  and  wiped  his 
eyes  and  said  they  had  better  go  on  with  dinner,  which 
they  did. 

Well,  James  had  heard  enough  to  make  him  sure  all 
was  over  and  went  on  cackling  about  it  downstairs  until 
I  wanted  to  cuff  him,  but  I  do  not  blame  him  for  being 
excited  about  it,  and  all  the  more  so  as  the  first  thing 
arfter  breakfast  the  next  morning  Mr.  Ketchem  came 
with  a  round-headed  little  man  with  a  sharp  nose 
named  Mr.  Isaacs,  and  they  all  went  into  the  library. 

153 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

Now  I  never  would  have  heard  anything  more  had  it 
not  been  for  the  fact  that  I  found  a  ventilator  between 
the  pantry  and  the  library  near  the  sink  and  as  my 
duties  kept  me  there,  I  sent  James  away  and  so  long 
as  I  was  there  alone  with  no  noise  I  could  not  help 
overhearing  part  of  wot  was  said. 

Now  it  seems  that  Mr.  Ketchem  and  Mr.  Isaacs 
had  got  it  all  planned  out  beforehand  that  Mr.  Carter 
should  remember  all  about  everything  that  had  hap- 
pened before  the  Statue  of  Limitations,  wherever  that 
may  be,  and  either  forget  wotever  happened  elsewhere 
or  put  it  on  poor  old  dead  Mr.  Wiggin  which  it  could 
not  harm  in  the  least  they  said,  being  as  he  was  in  his 
grave.  For  while  Mr.  Carter  had  gone  down  to  the 
building  where  the  Grand  Jury  was  they  had  not  been 
able  to  see  him,  being  too  busy,  and  so  he  was  to  be 
heard  the  next  morning.  But  Mr.  Carter  had  it  on  his 
mind  that  he  didn't  want  to  put  anything  on  Mr.  Wig- 
gin  that  the  latter  did  not  deserve  and  he  had  some  hesi- 
tation about  lying  anyway,  and  Mr.  Ketchem  got  sort 
of  irritated  and  says: 

"Carter,  you  talk  as  if  you  was  a  white  robed  hangel 
and  not  a  man  of  the  world.'* 

And  Mr.  Carter  waits  a  minute  and  then  says  sadly : 

**No,  Ketchem,  you  know  I  ain't  no  hangel  nor  no 
parson  neither,  but  I  never  lied  under  oath  yet  and  no 
matter  how  many  dirty  deals  you  have  put  me  through 
I  have  never  laid  any  blame  where  it  did  not  belong 

154 


THE  DELUGE 

or  got  anybody  else  in  trouble  and  I  have  taken  my 
losses,  as  I  have  my  gains,  without  squealing.  You 
have  always  talked  about  being  a  good  sport  and  to  my 
mind  that  includes  not  blackguarding  the  dead  nor 
telling  a  lie  when  you  give  your  word  of  honor,"  he 
says. 

And  I  felt  proud  of  him  and  I  says  to  myself :  "Good 
for  you !" 

"O  fudge!"  says  Ketchem.  "Wot  kind  of  distinc- 
tion is  that,"  he  says,  "lying  under  oath  and  lying 
without ;  and  wot  kind  of  honor  is  it  that  will  sacrifice 
the  living  for  the  dead !"  he  says.  "Do  you  want  your 
wife  and  family  to  be  ruined  because  you  go  to  jail!" 
he  says. 

"O,"  says  Mr.  Carter.  "You  don't  think  it  could 
come  to  that,  do  you,  Mr.  Isaacs?" 

And  I  heard  Mr.  Isaacs  put  down  his  glass  and  say : 

"Bretty  glose  to  id,"  he  says,  "bretty  glose  to  id." 

No  one  spoke  for  a  long  time.  Then,  at  last,  Mr. 
Ketchem  says: 

"Not  only  that  but  if  you  tell  'em  the  truth,"  he 
says,  "You  are  liable  for  every  cent,"  he  says,  "and 
your  family  will  be  beggared!" 

"Wot  is  that?"  says  Mr.  Carter. 

"Yes,"  says  Ketchem,  "Beggared,  ruined,  cleaned 
out,  bankrupted!" 

"Why  so?"  asks  my  master  in  a  faint  voice. 

"Because  the  evidence  you  will  give  will  make  you 

155 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

civilly  liable  for  every  cent  these  people  claim  they 
have  lost — which  is  about  ten  times  the  value  of  your 
estate,"  he  says. 

Well  that  put  a  different  color  on  it  and  I  could 
almost  feel  Mr.  Carter  on  the  other  side  of  the  wall 
struggling  to  make  up  his  mind  whether  to  be  an 
honest  man  or  a  rascal.  I  do  not  believe  he  would 
have  hesitated  an  instant  had  it  not  been  for  his 
family  and  his  pride,  but  I  could  understand  that  he 
felt  he  owed  a  duty  to  his  wife  and  Miss  Patricia  and 
the  others  he  had  brought  into  the  world  wotever 
they  might  be,  and  Mr.  Ketchem  evidently  3aw  his 
chance  for  he  began  to  talk  very  fast  about  how 
foolish  it  would  be  to  admit  now  that  wot  he  had 
done  before  was  wrong  and  to  give  up  the  money  he 
had  earned  merely  out  of  a  foolish  sentimentality  and 
disgrace  your  family  and  go  to  jail  into  the  bargain, 
and  Mr.  Carter  kept  saying  "Yes,  yes,"  there  was 
something  in  that  to  be  sure,  only  two  wrongs  could 
never  make  a  right. 

Just  as  I  began  to  realize  that  the  honor  and  welfare 
of  Miss  Patricia  and  the  whole  family  was  at  stake 
and  that  good  and  evil  was  in  mortal  combat  together 
in  the  library  and  had  made  up  my  mind  to  throw 
my  weight  on  the  right  side  if  I  ever  got  the  chance, 
I  heard  the  swish  of  skirts  and  I  saw  Miss  Patricia 
come  into  the  dining-room  in  her  riding  habit.  So  I 
went  to  see  wot  she  wanted. 

156 


THE  DELUGE 

"Ridges,"  says  she,  "Please  fetch  me  a  glass  of 
water." 

And  then  what  impelled  me  I  know  not  for  instead 
of  obeying  her  I  rushes  forward  and  I  clasps  my 
two  hands  together  and  says : 

"O,  Miss,  I  think  your  father  needs  you  in  the 
library!" 

And  she  looks  at  me  for  a  minute  and  then  she  says : 

"Did  he  send  forme?" 

And  I  says: 

"No,  Miss,  if  you'll  pardon  me,  he  did  not  send  for 
you,  but — but  he  needs  you  just  the  same!" 

"I  think  I  understand,"  she  says.  "Thank  you, 
Ridges,  I'll  go  to  him,"  and  forgetting  all  about  the 
glass  of  water  she  goes  down  the  passage  and  knocks 
at  the  door  of  the  library.  Someone  said  "Who's 
there  ?"  And  without  giving  any  answer  Miss  Patricia 
opened  the  door  and  went  in  and  I  slipped  back  to  my 
pantry  near  the  ventilator. 

"It's  me,  father, — Pat,"  she  says. 

"O,"  said  her  father,  "You  must  excuse  me.  We 
are  very  busy." 

"I  am  sorry  to  intrude,"  she  says.  "Good-morning, 
Mr.  Ketchem !  How-dy-do  ?  Father,  will  you  present 
this  gentleman  to  me?" 

I  could  just  see  old  Isaacs  getting  up  smirking  and 
a-puUing  of  his  forelock  only  there  wasn't  any,  being 

157 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

as  how  he  is  as  bald  as  an  owl,  and  I  could  hear  Mr. 
Carter  saying : 

"This  is  my  attorney,  Mr.  Isaacs.  My  daughter, 
Miss  Carter." 

"Glad  to  make  your  agquaintance,"  says  Isaacs. 

"You  must  excuse  us,"  says  Ketchem  very  short. 
"We  have  an  important  matter  under  discussion." 

"May  I  not  stay?"  asked  Miss  Patricia.  "I  will  be 
still  as  a  mouse.  Father,  do  let  me  stay!  Wot  you 
are  deciding  may  have  to  do  with  the  future  of  all  of 
us." 

"No,  no,"  says  Ketchem.    "No  women." 

"Wot  is  that,  sir  ?"  says  Mr.  Carter  his  voice  chang- 
ing. "This  is  my  house  and  my  affair  and  I  will 
decide  who  shall  be  present  at  this  interview.  If  my 
daughter  wants  to  remain  she  may  do  so.  I  have  no 
secrets  from  her." 

"O,  as  you  choose!"  growls  Ketchem. 

"Thank  you,  father  dear!"  says  Miss  Patricia. 

"Then,"  continues  Ketchem,  "It  is  decided,  is  it 
not?  You  will  do  as  we  planned?  And  I  will  decline 
to  answer  on  the  ground  of  privilege." 

There  was  a  long  silence  inside  the  room  and  I 
could  hear  the  big  clock  tick  off  a  minute  and  a  harf 
in  the  hall  and  then  Mr.  Carter  said  sort  of  agonized : 

"Omy  God!" 

I  heard  Miss  Patricia  exclaim : 

"Father,  dear !    Wot  is  it  all  about  ?    Tell  me  1" 

158 


THE  DELUGE 

"I  thought  you  were  not  going  to  interfere,"  says 
Ketchem,  getting  up  out  of  his  chair. 

Then  all  of  a  sudden  Mr.  Carter  began  to  talk  very 
fast  to  Miss  Patricia  and  although  I  could  not  hear  all 
he  said  I  could  tell  that  it  was  about  how  they  wanted 
him  to  lie  about  wot  he  had  done  and  how  it  was  the 
only  thing  that  stood  between  him  and  State's  prison 
and  their  all  being  beggared  and  thrown  penniless  into 
the  street,  and  then  I  heard  Miss  Patricia's  voice  say : 

"Is  that  wot  you  have  advised  my  father  to  do,  sir  ?" 
to  Ketchem. 

And  he  said: 

"It  is  either  that  or  go  to  jail." 

And  then  there  was  a  silence  and  she  said  in  a  sort 
of  surprised  way: 

"Have  you  given  him  his  answer,  father?" 

"No,"  he  says,  sort  of  ashamed.  "I  cannot  see  you 
disgraced." 

"Ah !"  she  said.  "Well,  /  will  give  him  his  answer. 
Mr.  Ketchem,  my  father  declines  to  take  your  advice 
and  commit  perjury  in  addition  to  any  other  offences 
into  which  you,  with  your  clever  scheming,  may  have 
lured  him.  From  now  on  he  is  going  to  tell  the  truth 
and  do  right,  no  matter  wot  the  consequences  may  be. 
If  he  Is  asked  wot  he  has  done  he  will  tell,  and  if  he  is 
asked  who  advised  him  to  do  it,  he  will  tell  that  too. 
Am  I  right,  father?" 

IS9 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

"Yes,"  I  heard  him  say,  "You  are  always  right, 
Pat!" 

"Then  I  may  as  well  go,"  shouted  Ketchem.  "You 
know  wot  this  means  I  suppose  ?  It's  each  one  for  him- 
self and  the  Devil  take  the  hindermost." 

"He  has  got  his  claws  on  one  of  you  already,"  said 
Miss  Patricia  very  quiet. 

Then  the  door  opened  very  sudden  and  Mr  Ketchem 
came  out  in  a  great  hurry  and  very  red  in  the  face  and 
he  pounded  through  the  dining-room  and  out  into  the 
front  hall  and  slammed  the  front  door  and — 

"I  think  the  young  leddy  is  right,"  I  heard  Mr. 
Isaacs  say,  "I  may  be  only  a  griminal  lawyer,  bud  I 
respegt  honesty  and  nobilidy  of  character  when  I  see 
it.  I  suppose,  Mr.  Carter,  you  will  have  no  further 
need  of  my  services,  and  I  will  wish  you  good  morning 
with  the  hobe  that  the  course  your  daughter  has  advised 
you  to  bersue  will  give  you  beace  of  mind  and  in  the 
end  greader  happiness  than  the  other." 

"No,  no,  Isaacs,"  says  Mr.  Carter.  "Stay  here. 
I  believe  you  are  the  only  honest  lawyer  in  the  lot." 

"I  am  sure  of  it,"  exclaimed  Miss  Patricia. 

"Well,  well,"  said  Isaacs,  "I  have  not  often  had  the 
bleasure  of  hearing  those  sendiments  and  if  I  can  be  of 
any  assistance  I  will  be  glad  to  remain  your  counsel." 

"I  leave  myself  in  your  hands  and  those  of  my 
daughter,"  said  Mr.  Carter. 

Then  Isaacs  said: 

i6o 


THE  DELUGE 

"I  suppose,  Miss,  you  understand  just  wot  this  will 
cerdainly  mean  to  your  father.  If  the  Grand  Jury 
find  anything  griminal  in  the  transactions  he  may  be 
indicted,  gonvicted  and  even  sent  to  prison,  and  as 
Counsellor  Ketchem  pointed  out  the  disglosures  he  may 
be  forced  io  make  will  put  his  greditors  in  position  to 
seize  all  h's  proberty  and  throw  him  into  bangkruptcy." 

"Then,"  answered  Miss  Patricia  "he  will  have  done 
all  in  his  power  to  make  amends  for  any  wrong  he  has 
done.  I  do  not  believe  my  father  ever  intended  to 
harm  any  one,  and  if  he  has  he  will  be  the  first  to  try 
to  make  restitution.  At  any  rate  wot  would  wealth  be 
worth  if  dishonestly  obtained?  I  can  work.  So  can 
my  father.  If  wot  he  has  now  rightfully  belongs  to 
others,  let  us  give  it  back  to  them.  If  it  is  necessary 
for  my  father  to  go  to  prison,  which  I  do  not  for  a 
moment  believe,  he  will  come  out  with  a  clear  con- 
science ready  to  begin  Hfe  over  again." 

"If  everybody  were  lige  you,  young  leddy,  we 
lawyers  would  have  to  go  out  of  business,"  said 
Isaacs. 

Just  then  the  bell  rang  and  I  had  to  go  and  it  turned 
out  to  be  Mr.  Amos,  so  Miss  Patricia  came  out  to  see 
him  in  the  drawring-room  and  Mr.  Carter  and  Mr. 
Isaacs  stayed  in  the  library  and  I  heard  no  more,  but  I 
began  to  feel  that  I  had  not  done  right  in  listening 
even  if  it  had  been  the  cause  of  Miss  Patricia's  coming 
to  her  father's  rescue,  and  when  Mr.  Amos  went  out 

i6i 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

I  was  a-standing  in  the  hall  and  when  I  had  handed  him 
his  hat  I  told  him  ever)rthing  wot  I  had  done  and  wot 
I  had  heard  pass,  and  it  almost  made  the  tears  come 
into  my  eyes. 

"You're  an  old  rascal,  Ridges !"  he  says  when  I  had 
finished.  "Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself  for  an 
eavesdropper  ?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  says,  "I  am  ashamed  of  myself,  but  I 
am  proud  of  Miss  Patricia." 

"Well  said.  Ridges !"  he  says,  "you  have  the  tempera- 
ture of  an  advocate!" 

Then  he  paused  and  looked  at  me  very  hard,  and 
all  of  a  sudden  he  slapped  his  knee  and  exclaimed : 

"By  George!"  says  he,  "Ridges,  do  you  think  you 
could  tell  that  over  again,"  he  says,  "just  as  you  have 
told  it  to  me  ?" 

And  I  says: 

"If  it  was  to  help  Miss  Patricia,"  I  says,  "  I  could 
shout  it  to  a  multitude  from  a  Mound  of  Olives." 

And  he  larfed  and  says : 

"I  may  give  you  a  chance,  but,"  he  says  "if  you  tell 
any  of  it,  tell  it  all  to  the  very  last  word." 

Well,  I  did  not  know  wot  was  up  so  I  went  back  to 
the  pantry,  and  by  and  bye  James  came  in  with  the 
evening  papers  and  there  it  was  worse  than  ever.  They 
had  found  out  all  about  the  tunnel  deal  and  how  Mr. 
Ketchem  was  at  the  back  of  it  and  it  said  how  possibly 
Mr.  Carter  and  the  others  would  be  indicated  and  the 

162 


THE  DELUGE 

ones  out  of  the  States  would  have  to  be  extracated  so  it 
seemed  a  Httle  better  to  me  here  than  there.  But  it  was 
clear  that  everything  was  in  a  very  bad  way  indeed  and 
all  the  servants  were  so  excited  they  could  hardly  eat. 

Dinner  that  night  was  a  gloomy  affair  and  the  only 
thing  Mr.  Carter  said  was  that  they  had  better  get  a 
good  full  meal  while  they  had  a  chance  because  you 
could  never  tell  when  you  would  get  another.  Mr. 
Amos  came  back  after  dinner  and  so  did  Mr.  Isaacs, 
and  they  all  stayed  up  very  late  looking  over  great 
quantities  of  papers  in  the  library. 

Next  morning  the  papers  had  everybody's  picture 
and  cartoons  with  convicts  in  stripes  breaking  stones, 
and  Mrs.  Carter  and  Miss  Harriet  claimed  they  had  not 
slept  a  wink,  and  after  breakfast  Mr.  Isaacs  came  for 
Mr.  Carter  in  a  cab  and  they  drove  orf  to  go  before  the 
Grand  Jury.  My  eye !  It  was  an  orrible  sensation  to 
open  the  door  for  Mr.  Carter  for  perhaps  the-  last 
time  and  being  so  happy  before.  All  that  day  I  felt 
terrible  and  by  and  bye  in  the  afternoon  Mr.  Carter 
came  home  looking  very  tired  and  depressed  and  went 
right  to  his  room,  and  when  the  evening  papers  came 
they  said  he  had  told  everything  and  now  there  would 
be  no  difficulty  in  putting  the  guilty  parties  in  jail. 

And  then  the  strangest  thing  happened.  About  six 
o'clock  the  door  bell  rang  and  as  James  was  hupstairs 
I  answered  it  and  a  cheeky  sort  of  a  fellow  was  there 
smoking  a  cigar  with  his  hat  on  one  side,  and  he  says : 

163 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

**Are  you  Carter's  valayf"  he  says. 

'T  am  employed  by  Mr.  Carter,"  I  says  in  reply. 

''AH  right,"  he  says  laying  a  brown  paper  on  my 
arm,  "you  are  subpoenaed  to  appear  before  the  Grand 
Jury  to-morrow  morning  at  ten  o'clock."  And  before 
I  could  say  a  word  he  was  arf  a  block  down  the  street. 

Sure  enough  the  paper  said  I  was  to  come  and  testify 
against  John  Doe,  which  was  some  comfort  as  it  was 
not  Mr.  Carter,  but  I  did  not  sleep  much  myself  and 
the  next  morning  I  went  down  in  the  subway  and  finally 
found  my  way  to  the  Grand  Jury.  But  there  is  noth- 
ing grand  about  it.  The  building  it  is  in  is  so  dirty  it 
cannot  have  been  cleaned  for  years  and  it  is  full  of 
orrible  stale  smoke  and  Italians.  Well,  they  passed 
me  along  until  I  reached  a  room  with  an  orficer  by  the 
door  full  of  Jews  and  Armenians  and  people  that  had 
the  appearance  of  having  recently  been  intoxicated, 
and  every  once  in  a  while  a  man  came  to  a  door  and 
shouted  a  name  and  the  person  went  in.  Pretty  soon 
he  would  come  out  and  the  man  would  shout  another 
name. 

Well,  by  and  by  he  called  Peter  Ridges  and,  as  I  got 
up  to  go  in,  another  door  opened  and  who  should  come 
out  but  old  Mr.  Gerard,  Mr.  Amos's  father,  and  he 
gave  me  a  smile  and  a  wink  and  says : 

"Ridges,  tell  it  all!" 

That  naturally  encouraged  me  summat,  so  I  mustered 
up  my  courage  and  went  in  through  the  door,  and  I 

164 


THE  DELUGE 

thought  I  should  drop  dead  for  there  was  a  great  circle 
of  desks,  and  a  gentleman  sitting  behind  each  one  and 
I  was  all  alone  in  the  middle  of  them  like  Daniel  in  the 
lion's  den.  Then  one  of  them  asked  my  name  in  a 
beard  and  another  handed  me  a  Bible  and  swore  me 
to  tell  the  whole  truth  and  nothing  but  the  truth  so  help 
my  God  and  to  take  a  chair,  and  again  I  was  forced  to 
be  seated  in  the  presence  of  my  betters.  Then  a  nice 
looking  gentleman  in  another  beard  asked  wot  I  knew 
about  certain  conversations  between  one  Ketchem  and 
one  Carter  my  employer,  and  if  I  could  tell  how  it  was 
that  said  Carter  had  decided  to  confess  all  he  knew 
about  the  tunnel  deal.  So  I  did  not  feel  embarrassed 
any  longer  and  began  to  tell  them  and  they  were  very 
particular  about  Mr.  Ketchem  and  asked  a  lot  of  ques- 
tions, and  when  I  got  to  the  part  about  Miss  Patricia 
they  all  listened  very  hard  and  nodded  and  one  asked 
me  wot  she  looked  like,  and  I  said  she  was  like  an 
hangel  on  earth  and  the  most  beautiful  lady  you  had 
ever  seen,  and  then  another  who  was  smiling  inquired 
if  I  thought  Mr.  Carter  would  do  anything  wrong,  and 
I  said  not  if  he  asked  Miss  Patricia  first,  and  that 
she  loved  him  better  than  anybody  in  the  world,  and 
it  would  kill  her  if  anything  happened  to  him,  and  that 
he  was  going  to  take  her  advice  and  give  back  all  the 
money  he  had  in  the  world  to  his  creditors. 

Then  a  fat  little  man  with  gray  eyes  said  he  was  of 
the  opinion  that  the  Grand  Jury  were  under  a  great 

i6s 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

obligation  to  Mister  Ridges  (Think  of  that!),  and  the 
gray-bearded  man  said  he  thought  so  too,  and  they  were 
all  much  obliged  and  I  might  go  now,  which  I  did 
feeling  somehow  much  happier  than  when  I  had  went 
in.  And  that  night  the  extraordinary  thing  occurred, 
for  when  I  took  up  the  paper  I  read  that  the  Grand 
Jury  had  not  indicted  Mr.  Carter  at  all,  but  had  in- 
dicted Mr.  Ketchem  instead  and  that  he  was  held  in 
twenty  thousand  dollars  bail !  And  I  was  that  over- 
joyed that  I  cried  right  on  the  paper,  but  the  family 
had  another  already.    Here  is  wot  it  said : 

KETCHEM  INDICTED 

Grand  Jury  Indicts  Lawyer  for  Conspiracy  to  Defraud 

The  Grand  Jury  to-day  returned  a  true  bill  against  Joshua 
Ketchem,  the  well-known  corporation  lawyer,  for  conspiracy 
to  defraud.  Contrary  to  general  expectation,  no  action  was 
taken  against  another  well-known  New  Yorker  whose  name 
has  recently  been  mentioned  in  connection  with  the  matter. 
It  is  believed  that  the  action  of  the  Grand  Jury  in  regarding 
the  moral  guilt  of  the  attorney  who  devised  and  engineered 
the  transaction  as  greater  than  that  of  his  clients  will  meet 
with  general  approval.  Among  the  incidents  of  the  day  the 
appearance  before  the  Grand  Jury  of  Peter  Ridges,  a  butler 
in  the  employ  of  Samuel  Carter,  excited  considerable  comment. 

And  that  Is  the  first  and  last  time  my  name  was  ever 
printed  in  the  paper,  and  thank  God  it  was  not  my 
picture. 


i66 


IX 

safe  at  anchor 

Primrose  Lodge^ 
Craven  Hall, 

Alderlea,  Hants. 

Who  would  ever  have  thought  it  would  come  out 
this  way  ?  And  indeed  it  is  hard  for  me  to  believe  that 
it  is  true  myself  and  that  I  am  back  again  at  Craven 
Hall  and  that  my  book  is  almost  full  of  writing.  To  be 
sure  in  the  hurry  and  confusion  of  selling  the  house 
and  packing  up  the  things  I  thought  that  I  had  lost 
it  and  not  much  matter  at  that,  but  when  I  packed  my 
box  there  it  was  sure  enough  with  the  cracked  ha'penny 
and  Mr.  Hunter's  waistcoat  button  way  at  the  bottom 
under  my  Inverness  coat  that  I  had  not  worn  since 
that  night  at  Rector's.  I  can  hardly  believe  that  there 
ever  was  such  a  place  or  such  a  night  as  I  sit  here  on 
the  porch  with  Eliza  beside  me  smoking  my  pipe  or  how 
near  I  came  to  losing  her  once  and  for  all.  But  it  is  so 
in  fact.  From  where  I  sit  I  can  see  the  gray  walls  of 
Craven  Hall  and  there  on  the  croquet  ground  are  Mr. 
Amos  and  Miss  Patricia,  I  mean  Mrs.  Amos,  with  my 

167 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

master  and  old  Mr.  Gerard,  and  Eliza  is  sewing  and 
humming  to  herself,  which  is  a  habit  I  shall  break  her 
of  if  I  am  able,  and  saying,  "I  thought  you  had  lost 
that  old  book.  Don't  write  in  it,  Peter.  Why  don't 
you  talk  to  mef"  But  I  am  going  to  write  in  it  for 
the  last  time  and  leave  it  for  my  post-humorous  works. 

Yet  wot  I  have  to  put  down  is  not  by  any  means 
all  happiness,  for  Mr.  Carter  did  lose  all  his  money 
just  as  Mr.  Ketchem  said  he  would  and  went  bankrupt 
and  had  to  sacrifice  all  his  property  for  his  creditors. 
Two  days  after  he  testified  before  the  Grand  Jury  a 
sheriff  came  and  levied  on  the  house  and  furniture 
and  a  receiver  in  bankruptcy  took  possession  of  it 
and  gave  us  a  week  to  get  out.  You  would  have  thought 
that  Mrs.  Carter  would  go  orf  her  head  for  the  first 
few  days  and  Miss  Harriet  was  that  hupset  that  she 
would  not  speak  at  all.  She  acted  as  if  she  had  a 
personal  grievance  against  her  father  and  all  the  world 
besides.  One  by  one  the  servants  were  called  up  and 
paid  orf  until  there  was  only  about  six  left,  including 
Eliza,  Aunty  Robinson  and  me,  and  although  you  will 
be  surprised  to  hear  it  we  got  along  quite  beautiful 
without  them  while  we  remained.  Then  Mr.  Carter 
hired  a  small  flat  on  the  West  Side  and  asked  Eliza 
and  me  if  we  would  be  so  kind  as  to  get  it  ready  for 
the  family  as  our  month  was  not  up  and  he  had  not 
had  a  chance  to  engage  other  servants  which  we  did. 

*T  wonder  wot  Mrs.  Carter  will  say  when  she  sees 

i68 


SAFE  AT  ANCHOR 

thisT  I  says  to  Eliza  one  day  while  we  were  getting 
unpacked. 

"I  wonder  wot  Miss  Harriet  will  say!"  says  she. 

Well,  wot  do  you  suppose  Mrs.  Carter  did  say  ?  That 
is  the  funniest  thing  of  all.  She  had  climbed  up  the 
four  flights  of  stairs  without  the  lift  and  came  puffing 
in  the  door  and  the  first  thing  she  says  was : 

"How  perfectly  dear!"  she  says.  *'It  is  just  like  our 
flat  in  Pi  qua !"  she  says,  and  she  threw  herself  down  in 
a  rocking  chair  by  the  window  and  looked  out  over 
the  Hudson  and  says  very  softly : 

"I  haven't  felt  so  happy  as  I  do  now  since  I  lived 
there." 

So  Eliza  and  I  slipped  back  into  the  little  kitchen 
and  as  we  sat  there  together  we  could  hear  Mrs.  Carter 
arranging  furniture  and  a-singing  to  herself  as  happy 
as  could  be  and  I  says  to  Eliza : 

"Wot  are  you  going  to  do,  Eliza?"  And  she  says : 

"I  don't  know,  Peter,  but  I  was  thinking  of  get- 
ting a  place  as  hat  checker  in  one  of  the  big  hotels  at 
the  dining-room  door." 

And  I  said,  why  ?  and  she  said : 

"Evelyn  Raymond  had  a  friend  who  was  tall  and 
fair  and  had  such  a  job  and  she  married  a  millionaire 
whose  hat  she  used  to  check.  They  like  them  tall  and 
fair.   I  am  tall  and  fair,"  she  says. 

"Do  you  want  to  marry  a  millionaire?"  I  says. 

"Well,  I  don't  want  particular  to  marry  a  million- 

169 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

aire,"  she  says,  "but  I  don't  want  to  die  an  old  maid," 
she  says,  and  she  looked  across  the  sink  at  me  sort  of 
weepy,  and  I  says  although  I  had  not  thought  seriously 
of  it  before: 

"Neither  do  I,  dear,  and  /  like  them  tall  and  fair." 

And  then  all  I  remember  is  that  she  said  "O,  Peter !" 
and  I  took  her  in  my  arms  and  held  her  there  so  long 
that  when  we  tiptoed  to  the  parlor  door  Mrs.  Carter 
had  gone  long  ago.  .  .  . 

Eliza  has  just  said  "O  Peter !"  again  for  I  laughed 
to  myself  just  now  when  I  wrote  this  and  she  looked 
over  my  shoulder  and  read  wot  I  had  written  and 
tried  to  snatch  the  book  away  but  I  did  not  let  her. 

Well,  if  I  had  not  proposed  to  Eliza  that  afternoon  I 
should  never  have  found  Lord  Craven,  for  I  took  her 
out  to  dine  and  then  to  a  play  which  she  said  she  had 
heard  was  a  good  one,  and  for  the  first  time  I  bought 
seats  in  the  orchestra.  The  play  was  all  about  the 
India  mutiny  and  an  orficer  who  is  left  behind  when 
his  regiment  goes  to  the  front,  and  was  very  pitiful,  so 
that  Eliza  cried  and  I  cried  a  little  also,  and  then  the 
orchestra  began  to  play  "God  Save  the  King,"  and 
although  nobody  near  me  did  so,  I  got  on  to  my  feet 
and  stood  up  all  alone.  Well,  a  lot  of  the  audience 
stared  hard  at  me  and  some  of  them  began  to  snicker 
and  I  got  red  as  a  lobster  when  all  of  a  sudden  I  saw 
there  was  someone  else  standing  up  on  the  other  side  of 
the  theatre  just  like  me  and  my  heart  went  out  to 

170 


SAFE  AT  ANCHOR 

this  other  Englishman  though  he  was  a  stranger.  He 
was  slim  and  tall  and  his  face  was  brown  and  clean 
cut  and  he  had  a  moustache  and  when  he  turned  I 
saw  it  was  Lord  Craven  and  he  knew  me  at  the  same 
instant.  Well  it  took  less  time  than  it  does  for  me  to 
write  it  to  get  to  him  and  we  went  out  into  the  lobby 
and  he  told  me  how  his  cousin  the  Earl  of  Danforth 
had  died  very  unexpected  without  heirs  and  how  he 
now  was  the  Elarl  himself  and  had  plenty  of  money 
and  was  on  his  way  back  to  England  from  Manitoba, 
and  you  must  come  with  me,  he  says,  and  bring  Eliza 
with  you,  for  I  had  told  him  about  her  and  how 
we  had  agreed  to  become  man  and  wife  that  very  after- 
noon. So  that  all  things  worked  together  for  good, 
and  if  I  had  not  told  Miss  Patricia  to  go  into  the 
library  that  time,  she  would  not  have  made  her  father 
tell  the  truth,  and  he  would  not  have  lost  his  money, 
and  Mrs.  Carter  would  not  have  hired  the  flat,  and  I 
should  not  have  married  Eliza  or  taken  her  to  the 
theatre  and  found  Lord  Craven,  God  bless  him!  So 
he  wanted  to  know  about  everything  and  I  told  him 
all  and  how  Miss  Patricia  was  the  noblest  lady  in  the 
world  and  wot  a  fine  fellow  Mr.  Amos  was. 

"Gerard,  the  poet  and  dramatist?"  he  says.   "I  know 
him  well." 

"But,"  I  says,  "he  does  not  really  write  anything 
to  speak  of,  does  he  ?" 

171 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

"He  wrote  this  play,"  says  he,  "and  he  will  make 
ten  thousand  pounds  out  of  it  if  he  makes  a  cent!" 

"My  eye!"  I  says.  "Now  who  would  ever  imagine 
Mr.  Amos  making  anything!"  I  says. 

So  Lord  Craven  said  that  he  would  give  us  a  cottage 
on  the  place  and  I  must  call  to  see  him  next  day  at  his 
hotel,  which  I  did. 

And  who  should  be  there  but  Mr.  Amos  and  Miss 
Patricia  and  they  were  the  happiest  looking  pair  of 
people  that  ever  you  did  see,  and  the  three  of  them 
were  all  having  tea  in  the  corridor.  So  they  bade  me 
approach,  and  Mr.  Amos  got  up  and  laid  his  hand  on 
my  arm  and  says: 

"Ridges,  I  want  to  speak  to  you  privately,"  and  he 
was  that  solemn  I  began  to  be  afraid  I  had  done 
something  to  offend  him,  so  I  says : 

"Very  good,  sir,"  and  he  led  me  into  the  cafe  and 
sat  me  down  at  a  table  and  ordered  a  pint  of  cham- 
pagne and  says  very  softly: 

"Ridges,  I  want  to  ask  your  permission  to  marry 
Miss  Patricia." 

And  I  was  that  surprised  and  overjoyed  that  I 
nearly  lost  my  voice,  but  I  seized  my  glass  and  I  raised 
it  and  said : 

"Mr.  Amos,"  I  says,  "God  bless  you  both!  God 
bless  you!" 

And  I  drank  it  orf.  Then  Mr.  Amos  held  out  his 
hand  and  I  took  it  hard  and  he  says : 

172 


SAFE  AT  ANCHOR 

"Thank  you,  Ridges.    I  promise  you  she  will  be 
the  happiest  woman  in  the  world  if  I  can  make  her  so." 

So  we  went  back  and  I  smiled  at  Miss  Patricia  so 
that  she  might  know  that  I  knew,  and  then  Lord  Craven 
said  he  was  going  to  get  married  himself  in  a  week 
or  two  and  he  wanted  Mr.  Amos  for  best  man  because 
they  had  been  at  Oxford  together  and  how  the  best 
thing  would  be  for  us  all  to  go  back  to  England  on  the 
same  ship  in  each  other's  company.    So  I  bade  them 
adoo  and  went  and  told  Eliza  and  she  agreed  that  if  we 
were  going  we  might  as  well  be  married  at  once  and 
have  our  honeymoon  on  the  ocean ;  but  there  is  no  need 
to  go  into  that  part,  for  her  father  who  is  the  electrician 
in  Astoria  raised  an  orrid  row  and  was  very  shirty 
about  her  marrying  an  Englishman  and  leaving  the 
country  but  her  brother  is  a  very  decent  young  fellow. 
So  in  the  end  we  were  married  and  Lord  Craven  and 
Mr.  Amos  and  Miss  Patricia  were  at  the  wedding  and 
kissed  the  bride,  and  I  did  not  care  in  the  least ;  and  a 
few  days  later  Miss  Patricia  became  Mrs.  Gerard  and 
everybody  except  Miss  Harriet  was  as  jolly  as  if  they 
had  never  lost  their  money,  and  Mr.  Carter  quite  hilari- 
ous, not  to  say  elevated,  and  then  I  learned  the  reason 
that  they  had  not  got  married  before  was  because  Mr. 
Amos  had  no  money  and  Miss  Patricia  had  and  he 
was  too  proud,  but  now  he  had  made  a  lot  of  money 
with  his  plays  and  poetry  and  she  had  none,  but  they 
had  loved  each  other  all  along,  and  all  the  swellest 

173 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

people  came  to  the  wedding  just  as  if  nothing  had  hap- 
pened although  it  was  a  church  affair  and  no  breakfast 
afterwards  except  for  the  family. 

That  is  how  we  are  here  in  Primrose  Lodge  which 
used  to  belong  to  the  head  gamekeeper  in  the  old  days, 
and  Aunt  Jane  is  coming  from  Wapping-on-Velley  to 
spend  her  declining  years  with  us,  which  is  better  than 
having  Eliza's  father  and  mother  if  I  do  say  it.  The 
trip  over  was  by  no  means  unalloyed  bliss,  as  they  say 
in  books,  but  it  was  not  Eliza's  fault  but  of  my  stomach. 
But  now  all  is  as  happy  as  can  be. 

Yesterday  a  letter  came  from  New  York  from  Eve- 
lyn Raymond  telling  us  the  latest  news  about  the  family 
and  I  will  copy  it  in  here : 

The  St.  Anthony, 
Broadway,  May  6. 

Dear  Little  Eliza:  Your  nice  note  came  duly  to  hand  and 
I  hasten  to  reply.  You  will  doubtless  be  surprised  to  see  that 
I  have  taken  rooms  here  but  an  up-to-date  actress  must  be 
a  la  mode.  In  a  word,  my  dear  little  innocent  Eliza,  I  have 
gone  on  the  stage.  Not  in  the  chorus,  O  no!  But  really 
and  truly  on  the  stage,  for  I  have  a  sort  of  fashion  part  in 
the  Weber  Company  and  wear  clothes  that  would  make  that 
ridiculous  Harriet  Carter  scream  with  envy. 

By  the  way,  you  will  be  interested  to  learn  that  the  Carter 
family  are  really  down  and  out  and  that  Mr.  Carter  has  gone 
to  work  again — in  a  bank.  Some  friends  got  him  a  job  as 
third  Vice-President  of  a  trust  company — it  must  be  a  trust 
company !  Mrs.  Carter  is  keeping  house  on  the  flat  you  and 
Peter  fixed  up  for  her  and  I  saw  her  the  other  day  buying 
some  tin  pans  at  a  department  store.  She  was  real  nice  when 
I  spoke  to  her  and  said  she  could  get  them  three  cents  cheaper 
than  at  some  other  place.    She  looked  positively  radiant  with 

174 


SAFE  AT  ANCHOR 

joy.  I  honestly  don't  think  she  ever  was  as  happy  before. 
The  best  joke  of  all  is  that  she  says  that  nasty  cat  of  a 
Harriet  is  going  to  become  a  stenographer.  And  what  do 
you  think !  Her  wretched  brother  is  in  our  company.  On  the 
level !  Can  you  believe  it !  He  does  a  sort  of  a  Lord  Dun- 
dreary part  in  the  second  act  at  eighteen  per.  But  I  have  no 
use  for  him,  although  he  has  tried  to  make  up  to  me  and  has 
asked  me  to  supper  several  times.  Little  Willie  is  still  at 
Groton  and  is  going  to  remain  there,  and  Mrs.  Carter  says 
they  are  going  to  send  him  to  college  if  they  have  to  eat 
beans  six  times  a  week  to  do  it.  The  old  woman  is  the  stuff 
after  all  and  I  like  her.  She  asked  me  to  drop  in  if  I  ever 
was  up  her  way;  and  I  really  think  she  meant  it.  I  suppose 
Miss  Patricia  is  enjoying  herself  immensely.  She  is  the 
style  that  I  suppose  takes  with  the  Britishers  but  I  never 
cared  for  her  particularly,  although  I  know  that  you  and 
Peter  think  the  ground  she  walks  on  is  sacred.  But  you  two 
are  a  pair  of  old  innocents  anyway.  Give  my  love  to  Peter 
(or  if  you  prefer  it,  Mister  Ridges)  and  write  me  all  about 
Lord  Craven  and  Craven  Hall  and  what  goes  on  and  what 
the  English  swells  are  really  like.  Do  you  know  I  am  begin- 
ning to  believe  that  you  and  I  never  saw  the  real  thing  at  all  ? 
Good  luck  to  you.     With  love  from  your  old  friend, 

Evelyn. 

P.  S.     My  stage  name  is  Doris  Haselmere. 

That  is  quite  a  sporty  letter  for  a  parlor  maid,  isn't 
it?  But  I  fancy  Providence  meant  her  for  a  actress 
and  I  have  no  criticism  to  make  if  she  keeps  honest  and 
is  a  good  one.    So  here  is  wishing  her  luck. 

Next  v^^eek  Lord  Craven  is  to  be  married  to  Lady 
Grace  Hamilton,  and  while  he  is  away  on  his  honey- 
moon Miss  Patricia  and  Mr.  Amos  are  to  spend  theirs 
here  and  I  and  Eliza  will  have  the  pleasure  of  waiting 
on  them.  After  that  they  are  going  to  visit  Lord  Craven 

175 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

for  a  month  more,  so  by  the  time  they  leave  I  shall  be 
better  able  to  stand  the  break.  Maybe  I  shall  keep  a 
note  book  and  maybe  not.  There  is  not  nearly  so  much 
to  write  about  here,  everything  being  more  settled.  But 
wotever  America  may  be  otherwise  it  is  a  good  place 
to  get  a  wife  wotever  the  people  may  be  like  in 
general  my  ten  years  in  service  there  was  a  small  price 
to  pay  for  the  sake  of  being  with  Miss  Patricia  who  is 
the  sweetest  and  loveliest  woman  in  the  world — except, 
of  course,  Eliza. 


176 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY, 

We  are  not  Carabinieri, 
We  are  r  'f  Royalists, 
But  we  are  Camorrists — 
The  devil  take  the  others! 

In  Italy,  when  it  rains,  the  man  on  the  street  mut- 
ters: "Piove!  Governo  ladro!"  ("It  rains!  Thief  of 
a  government!")  Oddly  enough,  this  expression, 
originally  coined  by  the  Fnnfulla,  an  influential  jour- 
nal, to  ridicule  the  opponents  of  the  government,  really 
epitomizes  the  attitude  of  the  average  Italian  toward 
the  central  authority.  It  is  the  vital  word  spoken  in 
jest.  The  Italian — and  particularly  the  Italian  of  the 
southern  peninsula — is  against  government — any 
government,  all  government — on  general  principles. 
He  and  his  forefathers  went  through  a  grim  school, 
and  they  have  not  forgotten. 

The  Italian,  however  republican  in  form  his  insti- 
tutions may  be,  is  still  the  subject  of  a  monarchy,  and 
he  has  never  fully  grasped  the  Anglo-Saxon  idea  that 
even  a  king  is  subject  to  the  law.  In  Italy  no  one 
thinks  of  questioning  the  legality  of  an  arrest.  With 
us,  to  do  so  is  the  first  thought  that  comes.     On  the 

177 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

Continent,  the  fact  that  an  act  is  done  by  an  official, 
by  a  man  in  striped  trousers,  places  it  above  criticism. 
No  matter  how  obvious  an  error  may  have  been  com- 
mitted, one  is  inevitably  met  by  the  placid  assertion: 
"The  government  makes  no  mistakes."  Neither  has 
the  idea  of  the  sanctity  of  personal  liberty  ever  been 
properly  developed.  There  is  no  habeas  corpus  in  Italy. 
Release  on  bail  is  legally  possible,  but  difficult  of 
achievement  and  little  availed  of.  A  man's  house  is  not 
"his  castle."  The  law  itself  is  usually  complicated  and 
slow  in  remedial  and  criminal  matters,  and  justice  is 
apt  to  be  blind  unless  the  right  sort  of  eye  doctor — a 
deputy  or  a  senator — is  called  in.  Bureaucracy  has 
perpetuated  the  Italian's  inherited  distrust  of  govern- 
ment and  distaste  for  legal  process,  and  drives  him  still 
to  seek  his  ends  in  many  cases  by  influence,  bribery,  or 
— the  Camorra. 

Rarely  can  we  point  to  a  social  phenomenon  in  this 
country  and  say :  "This  is  so  because  of  something  a 
hundred  years  ago."  With  us  some  one  has  an  idea, 
and  presto !  we  are  recalling  judges,  pulling  down  idols, 
"elevating"  women  to  be  sheriffs,  and  playing  golf  on 
Sundays.  Where  are  the  gods  of  yesterday?  The 
pulse  of  the  nation  leaps  at  a  single  click  of  the  Morse 
code.  An  injustice  in  Oklahoma  brings  a  mass  meet- 
ing together  in  Carnegie  Hall.  But  the  continuance 
of  the  Camorra  in  Italy  to-day  is  directly  due  to  the 
succession  of  tyrants  who  about  a  century  ago  allowed 

178 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

the  patriots  of  Naples  and  Sicily  to  rot  in  prison  or 
hung  them  up  on  scaffolds  in  the  public  squares. 

The  Bourbon  rule  in  the  "Kingdom  of  the  Two 
Sicilies"*  was  one  of  the  most  despicable  in  history. 
In  eleven  days  in  1793  one  hundred  and  twenty  pro- 
fessors, physicians,  and  priests  were  executed  by  the 
public  hangman  In  Naples.  This  was  a  mere  fore- 
taste of  what  was  coming.  When  Napoleon  dethroned 
the  Bourbons  in  1805  and  made  his  brother  Joseph 
"King  of  Naples,"  there  dawned  an  era  of  enlighten- 
ment and  reform  which  continued  when  Joseph  was 
succeeded  by  Joachim  Murat  in  1808 ;  but  the  Congress 
of  Vienna  in  181 5  reinstated  the  old  dynasty  and  re- 
called Ferdinand  I,  who  had  been  lurking  in  Sardinia, 
to  the  throne.  Then  the  horrors  began  again.  A 
period  of  retrogression,  of  wholesale  persecutions  and 
executions,  followed.  Never  was  there  anything  like 
the  nightmare  of  bloody  politics  which  lasted  through 
the  reigns  of  Ferdinand  I  (1825),  of  Francis  I  (1830), 
of  Ferdinand  II  (1859),  ^^^  of  Francis  II,  imtil  the 
entry  of  Garibaldi  into  Naples  in  i860. 

The  oppressions  of  the  Bourbons  and  the  struggle 
of  the  patriots  of  Italy  for  freedom  and  the  Risorgl- 
mento  stimulated  secret  organization.  No  other  means 
to  combat  tyranny  was,  in  fact,  possible.  To  be  known 
to  have  liberal  ideas  meant  instant  arrest,  if  not  death. 


*  Naples  and  Sicily  were  united  under  that  name  in  1734. 

179 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

Under  Ferdinand  II  there  had  been  over  twenty  thou- 
sand political  prisoners  actually  in  prison  at  one  time 
and  thirty  thousand  more  attendibili,  confined  in  their 
houses.*  The  governor  of  Genoa  complained  to 
Mazzini's  father  because  the  youth  "walked  by  himself 
at  night,  absorbed  in  thought."  Said  he:  "We  don't 
like  young  people  thinking  without  knowing  the  sub- 
ject of  their  thoughts."  The  great  society  of  the  Car- 
bonari had  provoked  the  counter-organization  of  the 
Calderoni,  and  had  in  turn  given  way  to  the  "New 
Italy"  of  Mazzini.  It  is  said  on  excellent  authority 
that  in  1820  there  were  seventy  thousand  persons  in  the 
city  of  Naples  alone  who  belonged  to  secret  societies. 
In  this  year  we  first  hear  of  the  Camorra  by  name,  and 
for  the  next  forty  years  it  spread  and  flourished  until 
it  became  so  powerful  that  the  government  of  the 
**Two  Sicilies"  had  perforce  to  enter  into  treaty  with 
it  and  finally  (in  i860)  to  turn  over  to  it  the  policing 
of  the  city  of  Naples.  Indeed,  it  may  be  that  some 
such  extra-legal  organization  was  a  practical  neces- 
sity if  existence  were  to  be  tolerable  at  all. 

Lombroso,  in  the  "Growth  of  Crime,"  writes: 
"When  the  royal  postal  officials  were  in  the  habit  of 
tampering  with  correspondence,  when  the  police  were 
bent  on  arresting  the  honest  patriots  and  making  use 


*  G.  M.  Trevelyan,  "Garibaldi  and  the  Thousand,"  c.  iii,  p.  45. 
De  Cesares  F.  di  P.,  p.  Ixix. 

180 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

of  thieves  as  agents  provocateurs,  the  necessity  of 
things  enhanced  the  value  of  the  Camorra,  which 
could  always  have  a  letter  or  a  packet  safely  con- 
veyed, save  you  from  a  dagger  thrust  in  prison, 
redeem  you  a  stolen  article  for  a  fair  sum,  or,  when 
quarrels  and  disputes  arose,  could  get  these  settled 
on  much  more  equitable  terms  and  less  costly  than 
any  one  else  or  indeed  the  ordinary  process  of  the  law." 

This  was  the  heyday  of  the  Camorra  as  an  organ- 
ization of  criminals.  Later  it  developed  into  some- 
thing more — a  political  ring  under  whose  leash  the 
back  of  southern  Italy  still  quivers. 

The  Neapolitan  Camorra  had  its  origin  in  Spain. 
The  great  Cervantes,  in  "Rinconeto  y  Contadillo," 
has  drawn  a  marvellous  picture  of  a  brotherhood  of 
thieves  and  malefactors  who  divided  their  evil  profits 
witli  the  police  and  clergy.  This  was  "La  Garduna" 
— the  mother  of  the  Camorra.  As  early  as  14 17  it 
had  rules,  customs,  and  officers  identical  with  those 
of  the  Camorra  of  the  nineteenth  century,  and,  like 
it,  flourished  in  the  jails,  which  were  practically  under 
its  control.  Undoubtedly  this  organization  found  its 
way  into  Sicily  and  Naples  in  the  wake  of  the  Span- 
ish occupation  of  the  thirteenth  century,  and  ger- 
minated in  the  loathsome  prisons  of  the  period  until 
it  was  ready  to  burst  forth  into  open  activity  under 
the  Bourbons. 

The  word  camorra  comes  from  the  Spanish  chamarra 

181 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

(in  Italian  gamurra,  hence  taharra,  taharro),  meaning 
a  **cloak"  usually  affected  by  thieves  and  bullies. 
From  this  is  derived  the  Spanish  word  camorra,  "a 
quarrel  with  fists,"  and  the  phrase  hacer  camorra, 
fairly  translatable  as  ''to  look  for  trouble."  It  would 
be  difficult  to  find  any  closer  definition  than  this  last 
of  the  business  of  the  Neapolitan  Camorra. 

Giuseppi  Alongi,  a  pupil  and  follower  of  Lombroso, 
and  one  of  the  principal  Italian  authorities  upon  the 
subject,  says  concerning  the  rise  of  the  Neapolitan 
organization : 

'The  Camorra  certainly  had  its  birth  in  the  prisons 
of  Naples.  Old  offenders  regarded  themselves  as 
aristocrats  of  crime,  and  behaved  as  masters  in  their 
own  households,  forming  a  sort  of  privileged  class 
within  the  prison.  The  idea  of  levying  taxes  on  new- 
comers came  as  natural  to  them  as  that  among  soldiers 
of  calling  upon  the  recruit  to  'pay  his  footing.'  That 
the  Neapolitan  Camorra  is  so  mixed  up  with  religion 
is  due  to  the  fact  that  the  local  criminal  unites  ferocity 
with  religious  superstition,  while  the  amazing  devo- 
tion of  the  population  to  'Our  Lady  of  Mount  Car- 
mel,'  who  is  venerated  as  the  symbol  of  maternal 
love,  offers  an  easy  means  of  exploiting  their  credulity. 
It  became  the  custom,  therefore,  to  exact  tolls  from 
the  people,  under  the  pretence  that  they  were  in- 
tended for  religious  purposes.  The  Camorrists  have 
four    hundred    feasts    every    year,    and   the    Church 

182 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

of  Mount   Carmel  in  Naples   is   still  their  religious 
centre." 

,  In  the  days  from  1820  to  i860,  to  be  a  Camorrist 
was  a  matter  of  pride  and  a  rare  distinction  among 
the  baser  sort.  So  far  from  concealing  his  member- 
ship in  it,  the  Camorrista  vaunted  it  abroad,  even 
affecting  a  peculiar  costume  which  rendered  him  un- 
mistakable. A  red  necktie,  the  loose  ends  of  which 
floated  over  either  shotiler,  a  parti-colored  sash,  and 
a  cane  heavily  loaded  with  brass  rings,  marked  him 
as  a  ''bad  man"  during  this  romantic  period.  But, 
however  picturesque  it  may  have  been,  the  Camorra 
soon  became  the  most  dreaded  and  loathsome  secret 
society  in  the  world. 

Only  those  could  become  members  who  had  shown 
their  preference  for  the  mcda  vita  and  given  tangible 
evidence  of  their  criminality.  Candidates  who  had 
qualified  for  the  novitiate  proved  their  suitability  for 
the  next  grade  by  performing  some  brutal  act,  such 
as  slitting  an  old  man's  throat  from  ear  to  ear. 

The  business  of  the  Camorra  was  organized  extor- 
tion, assisted  by  murder  and  violence.  The  Camorrist 
was  a  bully — one  who  could  use  the  knife.  In  this  he 
was  instructed  until  he  became  a  master  in  artistic 
stabbing  with  a  fair  knowledge  of  anatomy.  Various 
styles  of  knives  were  used  for  different  purposes:  the 
settesoldi,  for  scarring  and  unimportant  duelling 
among  members;  the  '0  zumpafuosso,  or  deadly  offi- 

183 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

cial  knife,  for  the  "jumping  duel";  the  triangolo  for 
murders,  etc.  The  actual  slashing  was  usually  done 
not  by  the  Camorrist  himself,  but  by  some  aspirant 
to  membership  in  the  society  who  desired  to  give 
proof  of  his  virtue,  and  who,  rather  as  a  favor,  was 
permitted  to  take  all  the  chances.  Accordingly  the 
"honored"  youth  selected  the  right  knife  and  lay  in 
wait  for  his  victim,  assisted  by  a  palo,  or  "stall," 
who  gave  warning  of  danger  and  perhaps  arranged 
for  the  victim  to  stumble  just  as  the  blow  was  to  be 
struck.  Secret  signals  facilitated  matters.  Even  to- 
day, the  American  in  Naples  who  is  not  "afraid  to 
go  home  in  the  dark"  had  best  hasten  his  steps  if  he 
hears  near  by  the  bark  of  a  dog,  the  mew  of  a  cat, 
the  crow  of  a  cock,  or  a  sneeze,  any  one  of  which  does 
not  carry  conviction  as  to  its  genuine  character. 
These  are  all  common  Camorrist  signals  of  attack; 
while  popular  tunes  such  as  ''Oi  ne\  traseteve,  ca 
chiora!"  ("Go  in,  for  it  rains!")  are  warnings  of  the 
approach  of  danger. 

The  Camorra  levied  blackmail  upon  all  gambling 
enterprises,  brothels,  drivers  of  public  vehicles,  boat- 
men, beggars,  prostitutes,  thieves,  waiters,  porters, 
marketmen,  fruit-sellers,  small  tradesmen,  lottery 
winners,  and  pawnbrokers,  controlled  all  the  smug- 
gling and  coined  bogus  money,  and  the  funds  thus 
secured  were  divided  among  (i)  the  police,  (2)  the 
members  in  jail,  (3)  the  aged,  (4)  widows  and  orphans 

184 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

of  those  who  had  died  in  the  cause  of  crime,  (5)  the 
higher  officers,  (6)  whatever  saint  or  shrine  it  was 
desired  to  propitiate,  and  (7)  the  "screenings"  went 
to  the  men  who  did  the  dirty  work. 

The  Camorrists  made  use  of  picture  signs  for  names, 
and  a  secret  symboHsm  to  express  their  meanings, 
written  or  spoken.  They  also  had  an  argot,  or  dialect, 
which  has  impressed  itself  upon  the  language  of  the 
entire  lower  class  of  Naples.  All  criminals  have  a 
jargon  of  their  own,  often  picturesque,  frequently  hu- 
morous, and  the  slang  of  the  Camorrist  differed  little 
from  that  of  other  associations  of  crooks  here  and 
elsewhere,  save  in  its  greater  volume.  Much  of  the 
Camorrist  vocabulary  has  passed  into  common  use, 
and  it  is  difficult  to  determine  now  what  words  are 
of  strictly  Camorristic  origin,  although  the  following 
are  supposed  to  be  so : 

Freddare,  "to  turn  a  man  cold"  (to  kill). 

Agnello,  "lamb"  (victim). 

II  morto,  "the  dead  one"  (one  robbed). 

La    Misericordia,    "Compassion"     (combination    knife    and 

dagger). 
Bocca,  "mouth"  (pistol). 
Tric-4rac  (revolver). 
Sorci  fieri,  "black  rats"  (night  patrol). 
Asparago*  "asparagus"  (a  gendarme  who  has  been  tricked— 

"a  stiff"). 


*  Compare  the  Florentine  carcisfo  "artichoke"  for  gendarme. 
Si  accolla,  "he  sticks  to  it"  (he  shoulders  the  others*  crime). 

i8s 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

In  all  there  are  said  to  be  about  five  thousand 
words  in  the  Camorrist  vocabulary;  but  a  large  num- 
ber of  these  are  simply  Neapolitan  slang,  for  invent- 
ing which  every  Neapolitan  has  a  gift. 

No  more  interesting  example  of  this  slang  has  ever 
come  to  light  than  in  the  secret  diary  of  Tobia  Basile 
(nicknamed  "Scarpia  Leggia")  who,  after  serving 
thirty  years  in  prison,  returned  to  the  haunts  of 
men  to  teach  the  picciotti  the  forms  and  ceremonies 
of  the  society  and  to  instruct  them  in  its  secret  lan- 
guage. This  strange  old  man,  more  literate  than 
most  Camorrists,  kept  a  diary  in  the  ancient  symbol- 
ism of  the  brotherhood.  Having  become  bored  by 
his  wife  he  murdered  her,  walled  her  body  up  in  the 
kitchen,  and  recorded  what  he  had  done,  thus : 

May  I,  "The  violets  are  out." 

May  7,  "Water  to  the  beans." 

June  II,  "I  have  pruned  my  garden." 

Aug.  10,  "How  beautiful  is  the  sun." 

Sept.  12,  "So  many  fine  sheep  are  passing." 

Time  passed,  and  a  contractor,  rebuilding  the  wall, 
came  upon  the  corpse.  Tobia  denied  his  guilt,  but  his 
diary  was  found,  as  well  as  a  Camorrist  translator. 
** Water  to  the  beans."  That  beautiful  metaphor 
was  shown  to  mean  naught  else  but  "I  have  killed 
and  buried  her!"  And  in  the  face  of  his  own  diary 
Tobia  admitted  the  accuracy  of  his  record.  "Water 
to  the  beans !" 

i86 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

The  first  grade  of  aspirants  to  the  Camorra  was 
that  of  the  gorzone  di  mala  vita,  or  "apprentice," 
who  was  practically  a  servant,  errand-boy,  or  valet 
for  his  masters  or  sponsors,  and  was  known  as  a 
giovine  onorato,  or  honored  youth.  The  second  grade 
was  that  of  the  picciotfi  sggaro,  or  novice,  originally 
difficult  of  attainment  and  often  requiring  from  six 
to  ten  years  of  service.  The  third  or  final  stage  was 
that  of  the  capo  paranea,  head  of  a  local  gang,  or 
"district  leader." 

The  society  was  divided  into  twelve  centres,  cor- 
responding to  the  twelve  quarters  of  the  city  of 
Naples,  each  centre  being,  in  turn,  subdivided  into 
paranze  and  having  a  separate  or  individual  purse. 
The  chief  of  each  paranza  was  elected,  and  was  the 
strongest  or  boldest  man  in  the  gang.  In  earlier  days 
he  combined  the  office  of  president,  which  carried 
with  it  only  the  limited  authority  to  call  meetings, 
with  that  of  cashier,  which  involved  the  advantage 
of  being  able  to  divide  the  camorra,  or  proceeds  of 
crime.  The  leader  was  entitled  himself  to  the  sbruffo, 
a  percentage  due  by  "right  of  camorra";  and  this 
percentage  belongs  to-day  in  every  case  to  the  Ca- 
morrist  who  has  planned  or  directed  the  particular 
crime  involved.  The  leaders  of  the  twelve  divisions 
met,  just  as  they  occasionally  do  now,  to  discuss 
affairs  of  vital  importance,  but  in  most  matters  the 
individual  sections  were  autonomous. 

187 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

According  to  the  confession  of  an  old  Camorrist, 
the  lowest  grade  of  the  society  was  attained  by  the  fol- 
lowing rite : 

A  general  meeting  of  the  district  was  called,  at 
which  the  sponsor  formally  introduced  the  candidate 
to  the  gathering.  The  leader  stood  in  the  midst  of 
his  fellow  Camorrists,  all  of  whom  were  drawn  up 
in  a  circle  according  to  seniority.  If  the  treasurer 
was  present  the  president  had  three  votes,  and  the 
assembly  was  known  in  Camorrist  slang  as  being  cap' 
in  trino — ^three  in  one:  if  absent,  the  society  was 
known  as  cap'  in  testa,  which  means  "the  supreme 
triad."  All  stood  perfectly  motionless,  with  arms 
folded  across  their  breasts  and  with  bowed  heads. 
The  president,  addressing  the  neophyte,  said: 

"Knowest  thou  the  conditions  and  what  thou  must 
do  to  become  an  honored  youth?  Thou  wilt  endure 
misfortune  upon  misfortune,  thou  wilt  be  obliged  to 
obey  all  the  orders  of  the  novices  and  the  solemnly 
professed,  and  bring  them  useful  gains  to  furnish  them 
with  useful  .service." 

To  this  the  neoph)rte  replies : 

"Did  I  not  wish  to  suffer  adversities  and  hardships, 
I  should  not  have  troubled  the  society." 

After  a  favorable  vote  on  the  admission  of  the  can- 
didate, he  was  led  forward  and  permitted  to  kiss  each 
member  once  upon  the  mouth.  The  president  he 
kissed  twice.     Certain  favors  were  then  asked  of  the 

i88 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

assembly  by  the  neophyte,   and  the  president  made 
reply : 

"The  favors  asked  shall  be  accorded  according  to 
our  rules.    Our  terms  of  membership  are  these : 

"First:  That  thou  go  not  singing  or  rowing  or 
brawling  in  the  public  streets. 

"Secondly:  That  thou  respect  the  novices  and 
whatsoever  instructions  they  may  give  thee. 

"Thirdly :  That  thou  obey  whole-heartedly  our  pro- 
fessed members  and  carry  out  their  commissions." 

After  a  few  tests  of  the  candidate  he  was  handed 
over  to  the  "novice  master,"  a  full-fledged  mem- 
ber under  whom  he  was  to  serve  his  term  of  probation. 
The  period  of  his  apprenticeship  depended  upon  the 
zeal,  ability,  and  ready  obedience  which  he  displayed 
in  the  course  of  it.  He  was  absolutely  at  the  mercy 
of  his  master,  and  if  so  commanded  he  must  substi- 
tute himself  for  another  and  take  the  latter's  crimes 
upon  his  own  shoulders;  but  one  who  thus  made  of 
himself  a  "martyr"  was  promoted  to  a  higher  grade 
in  the  society. 

Promotion  to  such  higher  grades  involved  stricter 
examination  and  the  Camorrist  admonition : 

"Shouldst  thou  see  even  thine  own  father  stab  a 
companion  or  one  of  the  brethren,  thou  art  bound  to 
defend  thy  comrade  at  the  cost  of  stabbing  or  wound- 
ing thy  father;  and  God  help  thee  shouldst  thou 
traffic  with  traitors  and  spies  1" 

189 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

Standing  with  one  foot  in  the  galleys  and  the  other 
in  the  grave  (symbolically),  he  swore  to  kill  anybody, 
even  himself,  should  that  be  the  wish  of  the  society. 
The  kissing  ceremqny  was  then  renewed,  and  the 
candidate  was  initiated  fully  into  the  secrets  of  the 
organization.  The  number  of  weapons  in  the  posses- 
sion of  the  Camorra  was  revealed  to  him,  the  names 
of  brethren  under  the  ban  of  suspicion,  the  names  of 
all  novices  and  postulants,  as  well  as  the  society  pass- 
word and  the  code  of  recognition  signs. 

These  points  of  ritual  passed,  the  candidate  was 
then  ready  for  the  blood  ceremony,  which  consisted 
in  tasting  the  blood  of  each  member  of  the  assembly, 
drawn  from  a  small  knife- wound  made  for  the  pur- 
pose, and  finally  the  combat.  For  this  necessary 
part  of  the  ceremony  of  initiation,  the  candidate  was 
required  to  select  an  opponent  from  the  assembly. 
The  champions  then  chose  their  daggers,  picked  their 
seconds,  unshirted  themselves — and  the  fight  was  on. 
It  was  a  rule  that  they  must  aim  only  at  the  muscles 
of  the  arm,  and  the  president,  acting  as  capo  di  ti- 
ranta  (master  of  combat)  was  there  to  see  that  the 
rule  was  obeyed.  At  the  first  drawing  of  blood  the 
combat  was  over,  and  the  victor  was  brought  for- 
ward to  suck  the  blood  of  the  wound  and  embrace 
his  adversary.  If  the  newly  promoted  member 
happened  to  be  the  loser,  he  had  to  resume  the 
fight  later  on  with  another  champion;  and  not  until 

190 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

he   had   won   in   a   test   was   he    definitely    "passed" 
and  "raised." 

Many  other  bloody  tests  have  been  attributed  to 
this  ceremony  of  the  Camorra;  but  these,  as  well  as 
the  foregoing  in  its  strict  form,  have  been  largely 
done  away  with,  except  in  the  prisons,  where  the  so- 
ciety still  retains  its  formality.  There  remained,  as 
a  final  step  in  the  ritual  of  initiation,  the  tatooing 
of  two  hearts  joined  together  with  two  keys.  "Men 
of  honor  ought  to  have  heart  enough  for  two  people, 
that  is  to  say,  have  a  large  heart;  men  bound  only 
to  their  colleagues  and  whose  heart  is  closed  as  it  were 
with  a  double  key  to  all  others."  Sometimes  a  spider 
took  the  place  of  the  hearts,  symbolizing  the  industry 
of  the  Camorrist  and  the  silence  with  which  he  weaves 
the  web  around  his  victim.  This  tattooing  is  still 
customary  among  Camorrists. 

The  usual  Camorrist  tribunal  consisted  of  a  com- 
mittee of  three  members  belonging  to  the  district  or- 
ganization, presided  over  by  the  Camorrist  of  highest 
rank  among  them,  and  settled  ordinary  disputes  and 
punishments.  From  this  there  was  an  appeal  in  more 
important  matters  to  the  central  committee  of  twelve. 
This  latter  body  elected  a  supreme  head  for  the  entire 
society,  and  passed  on  matters  of  general  policy.  It 
also  sat  as  a  court  of  original  and  final  jurisdiction 
in  cases  of  treachery  to  the  society,  such  as  betray- 
ing its  secrets  or  embezzling  its  funds,  imposed  the 

191 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

death  penalty,  and  appointed  the  executioners.  Its 
decrees  were  carried  out  with  blind  obedience,  although 
not  infrequently  the  death  sentence  was  commuted 
to  that  of  disfiguration. 

Such,  then,  was  the  society  which  in  1820  already 
controlled  the  prisons,  dealt  in  assassination  and  rob- 
bery, levied  blackmail  upon  all  classes,  trafficked  in 
every  sort  of  depravity,  and  had  a  rank  and  file  upon 
which  its  leaders  could  absolutely  rely.  It  had  no 
political  creed,  nor  did  it  interest  itself  in  anything 
except  crime.  It  had  greater  solidarity  than  the  po- 
lice, which  was  almost  equally  corrupt.  Dreaded  by 
all,  it  was  utilized  by  all,  for  it  could  do  that  which 
the  police  could  not  do. 

The  city  officials  of  Naples  had  a  very  tender  re- 
gard for  the  feelings  of  "the  brethren  of  the  dagger." 
In  1829  certain  reformers  proposed  building  a  wall 
around  a  notoriously  evil  street,  so  that  at  night, 
under  lock  and  key,  the  inhabitants  could  be  properly 
"segregated."  But  the  Camorra  did  not  take  kindly 
to  the  suggestion,  and  a  letter  was  left  with  the  func- 
tionary in  charge  of  the  matter  :* 

Naples,  September,  1829. 
Sir: 

Are  you  not  aware  that  in  confining  these  poor  girls  in 
walls  you  act  as  if  they  were  condemned  to  the  lowest  depths 
of  hell  ?    The  prefect  of  police  and  the  intendant  who  ordered 


*  H.  D.  Sedgwick,  "Letters  from  Italy.' 

192 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

this  brutal  act  have  no  heart.  .  .  .  We  are  here  who  have 
much  heart  and  are  always  ready  to  shed  our  own  blood  for 
them,  and  to  cut  the  throats  of  those  who  shall  do  anything 
toward  walling  up  that  street.  With  all  humility  we  kiss  your 
hands.  N.  N. 

The  street  was  not  walled  up,  the  perfect  of  the 
police  discovering  that  he  had  too  much  heart. 

Having  no  politics,  the  Camorrists  became,  as  it 
were,  Hessians  in  politico-criminal  activity.  They 
were  loyal  only  to  themselves,  their  favorite  song 
being : 

"Nui  non  simmo  gravanari, 
Nui  non  simmo  realisti, 
Ma  nui  simmo  Camorristi, 
Cuffiano    a  chilli'  e  a  chisti!" 

(We  are  not  Carabinieri, 
We  are  not  royalists. 
But  we  are  Camorrists — 
The  devil  take  the  others  !) 

Under  the  Bourbons  the  police  recognized  and  used 
the  Camorra  as  their  secret  agents  and  granted  its 
members  immunity  in  return  for  information  and  as- 
sistance. Both  preyed  on  the  honest  citizen,  and 
existed  by  extortion  and  blackmail.  "The  govern- 
ment and  the  Camorra  hunted  with  one  leash."  Yet, 
because  the  police  were  regarded  as  the  instruments 
of  despotism,  the  people  came  to  look  upon  the  Ca- 
morrists   (who,  technically  at  least,  were  hostile  to 

193 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

authority)  as  allies  against  tyranny.  It  was  at  this 
period  of  Italian  history  that  the  present  distrust  of 
government  and  distaste  for  law  had  its  rise,  as  well 
as  the  popular  sympathy  for  all  victims  of  legal  proc- 
ess and  hatred  for  all  who  wear  the  uniform  of  the 
police.  The  Camorra  still  appeals  to  the  dread  of 
tyranny  in  the  heart  of  the  south  Italian  to  which  in 
large  measure,  by  its  complicity,  it  contributed.  Thus 
the  love  of  liberty  was  made  an  excuse  for  traffic  with 
criminals;  thus  was  fostered  the  omerta,  the  per- 
verted code  of  honor  which  makes  it  obligatory  upon 
a  victim  to  shield  his  assassin  from  the  law ;  and  thus 
was  born  the  loathing  of  all  authority  which  still  ob- 
tains among  the  descendants  of  the  victims  of  Ferdi- 
nand's atrocious  system,  which,  whatever  their  ori- 
gin, gave  the  mala  vita — brigandage,  the  Mafia  and 
the  Camorra — their  virulence  and  tenacity. 

In  1848  the  Camorra  had  become  so  powerful  that 
Ferdinand  II  actually  negotiated  with  it  for  support; 
but  the  society  demanded  too  much  in  return  and 
the  plan  fell  through.  On  this  account  the  Camorra 
threatened  to  bring  on  a  revolution!  In  this  it  was 
not  successful,  but  it  now  began  openly  to  affect  revo- 
lutionary ideas  and  pretend  to  be  the  friend  of  liberty, 
its  imprisoned  members  posing  as  patriots,  victims 
of  tyranny. 

Thus  it  gained  enormously  in  prestige  and  mem- 
bership, while  the  throne  became  less  and  less  secure. 

194 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

Ferdinand  II  granted  a  general  amnesty  in  order  to 
heighten  his  popularity,  and  the  Camorrists  who  had 
been  in  jail  now  had  to  be  reckoned  with  in  addition 
to  those  outside.  In  1859  Ferdinand  died  and  Francis 
II  seated  himself  on  the  quaking  throne.  His  prefect 
of  police,  Liborio  Romano,  whom  history  has  accused 
of  plotting  the  Bourbon  overthrow  with  Garibaldi  and 
of  playing  both  ends  against  the  middle,  had  either  per- 
force or  with  malice  prepense  conceived  the  scheme  of 
harnessing  the  Camorra  by  turning  over  to  it  the  main- 
tenance of  order  in  the  city.  The  police  had  become 
demoralized  and  needed  rejuvenating,  he  said.  Francis 
II  thereupon  had  another  jail  delivery,  and  "Don  Libo- 
rio" organized  a  "National  Guard"  and  enlisted 
throngs  of  Camorrists  in  it,  while  in  the  gendarmerie 
he  recruited  the  picciotti  as  rank  and  file  and  installed 
the  regular  Camorrists  as  brigadiers. 

Then  came  the  news  that  Garibaldi  was  marching 
upon  Naples.  Romano,  still  ostensibly  acting  for  the 
best  interests  of  his  royal  master,  urged  the  latter's 
departure  from  the  capital.  The  revolution  was  coming. 
In  some  indefinable  way,  people  who  were  for  the 
Bourbons  yesterday  saw  to-day  the  impossibility  of 
the  continuance  of  the  dynasty.  The  cat  was  ready 
to  jump,  but  it  had  not  jumped  yet.  Whatever  may 
have  been  Romano's  real  motives  so  far  as  the  Bour- 
bons were  concerned,  the  fact  remains  that  his  control 
over  the  national  militia  and  police,  during  the  days 

195 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

and  nights  just  prior  to  the  departure  of  the  King  and 
the  arrival  of  Garibaldi,  resulted  in  a  vigilance  on 
their  part  which  protected  property  and  maintained  an 
order  otherwise  impossible.*  Garibaldi  at  last  arrived, 
with  Romano's  Camorrist  police  on  hand  to  cheer 
loudly  for  "Victor  Emmanuel  and  Italy  United!"  and 
to  knock  on  the  head  or  stick  a  knife  into  the  gizzard 
of  any  one  who  seemed  lukewarm  in  his  reception  of 
the  conquering  hero.  The  cat  jumped — assisted  by 
the  Camorra.  The  liberals  were  in,  and  with  them 
the  Camorrists,  as  the  saying  is,  "with  both  feet." 
Thus,  perhaps  for  the  first  time  in  history,  was  a  society 
of  criminals  recognized  officially  by  the  government 
and  intrusted  with  the  task  of  policing  themselves. 

From  i860  on  the  Camorra  entered  upon  a  new 
phase,  a  sort  of  duplex  existence,  having  on  the  one 
hand  its  old  criminal  organization  (otherwise  known 
as  the  Camtorra  bassa)  and  on  the  other  a  group  of 
politicians  or  ring  with  wide-spread  ramifications, 
closely  affiliated  with  the  society  and  dealing  either 
directly  with  it  or  through  its  more  influential  and 
fashionable  members,  much  as  a  candidate  for  office 
in  New  York  might  have  secured  the  support  of  the 
"Paul  Kelly  Gang"  through  the  offices  of  the  politician 
under  whose  patronage  it  existed.  This  "smart  set" 
and  the  ring  connected  with  it  was  known  as  the 


*  G.  M.  Trevelyan,  "Garibaldi  and  the  Thousand,"  c.  i.,  p.  19. 

196 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

Camorra  alta  or  Camorra  elegante,  and  from  the  advent 
of  Garibaldi  to  the  present  time  the  strictly  criminal 
operations  of  the  society  have  been  secondary  in  impor- 
tance to  its  political  significance.  Its  members  became 
not  merely  crooks,  but  "protected"  crooks,  since  they 
gave  office  to  men  who  would  look  after  them  in  return, 
and  the  result  was  the  alliance  of  politics  and  crime  in 
the  political  history  of  Southern  Italy  during  the  last 
fifty  years. 

It  is  hardly  likely  that  foxy  old  "Don  Liborio"  an- 
ticipated any  such  far-reaching  result  of  his  extraor- 
dinary manoeuvre  with  the  Camorra.  It  was  not  many 
weeks,  however,  before  the  Camorrists  who  had  been 
given  public  office  and  continued  under  Garibaldi,  began 
to  show  themselves  in  their  true  colors,  and  to  use 
every  opportunity  for  blackmail  and  private  vengeance. 
They  had  been  given  charge  of  the  octroi,  or  taxes 
levied  at  the  city  gates,  and  these  decreased,  under  Sal- 
vatore  di  Crescenza,  from  forty  thousand  to  one  thou- 
sand ducats  per  day.  Another  Camorrist  collector, 
Pasquale  Menotte,  had  the  effrontery  to  turn  in,  on 
one  occasion,  the  princely  sum  of  exactly  four  cents. 
It  became  absolutely  necessary  to  get  rid  of  them  at 
any  cost,  and  to  drive  them  out  of  the  police  and  army, 
which  they  now  permeated.  Mild  measures  were  found 
insufficient,  and  as  early  as  1862  a  raid  was  conducted 
by  the  government  upon  the  organization — Sparenta, 
the  Minister  of  PoHce,  arresting  three  hundred  Camor- 

197 


THE  BUTLER^S  STORY 

lists  in  one  day.  But  he  accomplished  little.  From  this 
time  on  until  1900  the  history  of  the  Camorra  is  that 
of  a  corrupt  political  ring  having  a  standing  army  of 
crooks  and  rascals  by  means  of  which  to  carry  out 
its  bargains. 

During  this  period  many  serious  attempts  were  made 
to  exterminate  it,  but  practically  to  no  purpose.  In 
1863  another  fruitless  series  of  raids  filled  the  jails  of 
Naples,  and  even  of  Florence  and  Turin,  with  its  mem- 
bers ;  but  the  society  continued  to  flourish — less  openly. 
The  resignation  of  Nicotera  as  Prime  Minister  in  1876 
was  followed  by  a  burst  of  activity  among  the  Camor- 
rists,  but  in  1877  the  government  made  a  serious  effort 
to  put  down  the  Mafia  in  Sicily,  while  in  1880  the 
murder  of  Bonelli  in  a  foul  dive  of  the  Camorra  in 
Naples  resulted  in  the  prosecution  of  five  Camorrists 
for  his  murder.  The  trial,  like  that  of  1911-12,  took 
place,  for  reasons  of  safety,  at  Viterbo.  The  witnesses 
testified  freely  upon  every  subject  save  the  Camorra, 
and  could  not  be  induced  to  suggest  that  the  assassina- 
tion had  been  the  result  of  a  conspiracy.  "The  word 
Camorra  seemed  to  burn  their  tongues."  The  jury 
were  so  impressed  by  the  obvious  terror  which  the  soci- 
ety inspired  in  the  Neapolitans  that  they  found  all  the 
five — Esposito,  Romano,  Tiniscalchi,  Langella,  and 
Trombetta — guilty,  and  they  were  sentenced  to  forced 
labor  in  the  galleys. 

Apparently  there  was  a  sort,  of  renaissance  of  the 

198 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

Camorra  about  1880,  at  the  death  of  Victor  Emmanuel 
II,  and  under  the  new  administration  of  Humbert  it 
began  to  be  increasingly  active  in  political  affairs.  At 
this  time  the  Camorra  alta  included  lawyers,  magis- 
trates, school-teachers,  holders  of  high  office,  and  even 
cabinet  ministers.  The  writer  does  not  mean  that  these 
men  went  through  the  rites  of  initiation  or  served  an 
apprenticeship  with  the  knife,  but  the  whole  villainous 
power  of  the  Camorra  was  at  their  backs,  and  they 
utilized  it  as  they  saw  fit. 

The  "Ring,"  affiliated  as  it  is  with  the  leaders  of  the 
society,  is  still  the  most  dangerous  manifestation  of  the 
Camorra.  Historically,  it  is  true,  it  was  known  as  the 
alta  Camorra  or  Camorra  elegante,  but  in  ordinary 
parlance  these  terms  are  generally  used  to  describe 
Camorrists  more  closely  related  to  the  actual  district 
organizations,  yet  of  a  superior  social  order — men  who 
perhaps  have  graduated  from  leadership  into  the  more 
aristocratic  if  equally  shady  purlieus  of  crime.  These 
handle  the  elections  and  deliver  the  vote,  own  a  gam- 
bling-house or  two,  or  even  more  disreputable  estab- 
lishments, select  likely  victims  of  society's  offscourings 
for  blackmail,  and  act  as  go-betweens  between  the  Ring 
and  the  organization.  They  also  furnish  the  influence 
when  it  is  needed  to  get  Camorrists  out  of  trouble, 
and  mix  freely  in  the  fast  life  of  Naples  and  elsewhere. 
The  power  of  the  Ring  reached  its  climax  in  1900. 

In  return  for  the  services  of  the  Camorra  bassa  in 

199 


THE  BUTLER^S  STORY 

electing  its  deputies  to  office,  the  government  saw  to 
it  that  the  criminal  activities  of  the  society  were  not 
interfered  with.  Prefects  who  sought  to  do  their  duty 
found  themsleves  removed  from  office  or  transferred 
to  other  communes,  and  the  blight  of  the  Camorra  fell 
upon  Parliament,  where  it  controlled  a  number  of 
deputies  from  the  provinces  of  "Capitanata" ;  all  gov- 
ernmental interference  with  the  Camorra  was  blocked, 
and  Italian  politics  weltered  in  corruption. 

Upon  the  assassination  of  King  Humbert,  in  1900, 
the  situation  in  Naples  was  as  bad  as  that  of  New 
York  City  in  the  days  of  the  Tweed  Ring.  The  igno- 
rant Neapolitans  sympathized  with  the  Camorrists  as 
against  the  police,  and  voted  as  they  were  directed. 
Almost  all  the  lower  classes  were  affiliated  in  some 
indirect  way  with  the  society,  much  as  they  are  in  New 
York  City  with  Tammany  to-day.  The  Ring  absolutely 
controlled  all  but  three  of  the  newspapers  published  in 
the  city.  The  lowest  depths  had  been  reached  in  every 
department  of  municipal  and  provincial  administration, 
and  even  the  hospitals  and  orphan  asylums  had  been 
plundered  to  such  an  extent  that  there  was  nothing 
left  for  the  thieves  to  get  away  with. 

At  this  crisis  the  Socialist  newspaper.  La  Propa- 
ganda, courageously  sprang  to  the  attack  of  the  com- 
munal administration,  in  the  persons  of  the  S)mdic 
Summonte  and  the  Deputy  Casale,  who,  smarting  under 
the  lash  of  its  excoriation,  brought  an  action  of  libel 

200 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

against  its  editor.  Heretofore  similar  attacks  had  come 
to  nothing,  but  the  facts  were  so  notorious  that  Sum- 
monte  evaded  service  and  abandoned  his  associate,  and 
Casale,  facing  the  necessity  of  explaining  how  he  could 
support  a  luxurious  establishment  on  no  salary,  en- 
deavored to  withdraw  the  action.  The  Public  Minister 
himself  announced  that  ro  witnesses  need  be  summoned 
for  the  defense,  and  publicly  expressed  his  indignation 
that  a  governmental  officer,  Commendatore  F.  S.  Gar- 
guilo,  Sustituto  Procuratore  Generale  of  the  Court  of 
Cassation  in  Naples,  should  have  accepted  a  retainer 
for  Casale.  The  tribunal  handed  down  a  decision  find- 
ing that  the  facts  asseverated  by  La  Propaganda  were 
fully  proved  and,  referring  to  the  influence  of  Casale, 
said:  "The  immorality  thence  emanating  is  such  as  to 
nauseate  every  honest  conscience,  and  to  affirm  this  in 
a  verdict  is  the  commencement  of  regeneration." 

This  was,  indeed,  the  commencement  of  a  temporary 
regeneration.  Casale  was  forced  to  resign  his  seat  in 
Parliament  and  in  the  provincial  council.  The  entire 
municipal  council  resigned,  and,  amid  the  roarings  of 
the  Neapolitan  Camorrist  press,  the  president  of  the 
Council  of  Ministers,  Senator  Saracco,  proposed  and 
secured  a  royal  commission  of  inquiry  of  plenipoten- 
tiary powers,  with  a  royal  commissioner  to  administer 
the  commune  of  Naples.  The  report  of  this  commis- 
sion, in  two  volumes  of  nine  hundred  pages  each, 
draws  a  shocking  picture  of  municipal  depravity,  in 

201 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

which  Casale  appeared  as  recommending  criminals  to 
public  office,  selling  places  for  cash,  and  holding  up 
payments  to  the  city's  creditors  until  he  had  been 
"seen."  He  was  proved  to  have  received  thirty  thou- 
sand lire  for  securing  a  subsidy  for  a  steamship  com- 
pany, and  sixty  thousand  lire  for  getting  a  franchise 
for  a  street  railway.  It  appeared  that  the  corruption 
in  the  educational  departments  passed  description,  that 
concessions  were  hawked  about  to  the  highest  bidder, 
and  that  in  one  deal — the  "Scandalous  Loan  Contract," 
so  called — five  hundred  thousand  lire  had  been  divided 
between  Scarfoglio,  Summonte,  Casale,  and  Delicto. 
This  Scarfoglio,  the  editor  of  //  Matino,  and  the  clev- 
erest journalist  in  Naples,  was  exposed  as  the  Ring's 
intermediary,  and  his  wife,  the  celebrated  novelist,  Ma- 
tilde  Serao,  was  demonstrated  to  have  been  a  trafficker 
in  posts  and  places.  The  trial  and  exposures  created  a 
furore  all  over  Italy.  The  Prime  Minister  refused  to 
continue  the  Royal  Commission  and  announced  a  gen- 
eral election,  and,  amid  the  greatest  excitement,  the 
Camorra  rallied  all  its  forces  for  its  final  struggle  in 
politics.  But  the  citizens  of  Naples  had  had  enough 
of  the  Ring  for  the  time  being,  and  buried  all  the 
society's  candidates  under  an  avalanche  of  votes.  This 
was  the  severest  blow  ever  dealt  to  the  political  influ- 
ence of  the  Camorra. 

The  Casale  trial  marks  the  last  stage  of  the  Camorra's 
history  to  date.    America  has  had  too  many  ''rings" 

202 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

of  her  own  to  care  to  delve  deeply  into  the  slime  of 
Italian  politics.  The  Camorra  regularly  delivers  the 
votes  of  the  organization  to  governmental  candidates, 
and  exerts  a  powerful  influence  in  the  Chamber  of 
Deputies.  It  still  flourishes  in  Naples,  and  continues  in 
a  somewhat  modified  form  its  old  formalities  and  fes- 
tivities; but  its  life  is  hidden  and  it  works  in  secret. 
The  solidarity  of  the  organization  has  yielded  to  a 
growing  independence  on  the  part  of  local  leaders, 
whose  authority  is  often  usurped  by  some  successful 
hasista  (burglary  planner).  The  big  coups  become 
fewer  as  the  years  go  on,  the  "stakes"  for  which  the 
criminal  game  is  played  smaller  and  smaller. 

Police  Inspector  Simonetti,  who  had  many  years' 
experience  in  Naples,  gave  evidence  before  the  Viterbo 
Assize  on  June  8,  191 1,  as  follows : 

"The  Camorra  truly  exists  at  Naples,  and  signifies 
violence  and  absolutism.  Formerly  it  had  severe  laws 
and  iron  regulations,  and  all  the  gains  derived  from 
criminal  undertakings  were  divided  among  all  the  lead- 
ers. There  was  blind,  absolute  obedience  to  the  chiefs. 
In  a  word,  the  Camorra  was  a  state  within  a  state. 

"To-day  this  collectivism,  this  blind  obedience,  exists 
no  longer.  All  the  Camorrists  respect  one  another  but 
they  act  every  man  for  himself. 

"The  Camorra  exerts  its  energies  in  divers  ways. 
The  first  rung  in  the  Camorrist  ladder  is  the  exploita- 
tion of  one  or  more  women;  the  second,  the  horse- fair 

203 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

sales  and  public  auctions  of  pawned  goods.  The  Ca- 
morrists  go  to  these  latter  with  the  special  object  of 
frightening  away  all  would-be  non-Camorrist  buyers. 
Usury  constitutes  another  special  source  of  lucre,  and 
at  Naples  is  exercised  on  a  very  large  scale.  The  Ca- 
morrist  begins  by  lending  a  sum  of  five  francs,  at  one 
franc  per  week  interest,  in  such  fashion  that  the  gain 
grows  a  hundredfold,  so  that  the  Camorrist  who  began 
with  five- franc  loans  is  able  to  lend  enormous  sums  to 
noblemen  in  need  of  funds.  For  instance,  the  Camorrist 
loans  ten  thousand  lire,  but  exacts  a  receipt  for  twenty 
thousand  lire,  and  gives  goods  in  place  of  money,  these 
goods  being  subsequently  bought  back  at  low  prices  by 
the  selfsame  usurers.  Another  great  industry  of  the 
Neapolitan  Camorra  is  the  receipt  of  stolen  goods; 
practically  all  the  receivers  of  such  in  Naples  are  mem- 
bers of  the  Camorra." 

Governor  Abbate,  who  for  thirty  years  past  has  been 
chief  warder  of  the  prisons  at  Pozzuoli  near  Naples 
(the  ancient  Puteoli  at  which  St.  Paul  sojourned  for 
seven  days  on  his  way  to  Rome),  gave  evidence  before 
the  Viterbo  Assize  on  June  13,  191 1 : 

*Tn  the  course  of  my  thirty  years'  experience  I  have 
had  the  worst  scum  of  the  Neapolitan  Camorra  pass 
through  my  hands.  I  have  never  met  a  gentleman  nor 
an  individual  capable  of  speaking  the  truth  among 
them.  I  have  never  been  without  a  contingent  of 
Camorrists  in  my  prison.   I  always  follow  the  system 

204 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

adopted  in  most  other  Italian  prisons  of  putting  all 
the  Camorrist  prisoners  together  in  a  pack  by  them- 
selves. When  new  inmates  come,  they  spontaneously 
declare  if  they  be  Camorrists,  just  as  one  might  state 
his  nationality  or  his  religion.  I  group  them  accord- 
ingly with  the  rest  of  their  fellows.  They  know  they 
will  be  so  treated;  and  unless  we  follow  this  system 
a  perfect  inferno  of  terrorism  ensues.  The  Camorrists 
seize  the  victuals,  the  clothes  and  underwear  of  the  non- 
Camorrist  inmates,  whom,  in  fact,  they  despoil  in  every 
way  imaginable. 

*T  come  to  learn  the  grades  of  my  Camorrist  pris- 
oners inasmuch  as  Camorrists,  probationers,  freshmen, 
and  the  rank  and  file,  show  studious  obedience  to  their 
seniors  and  chiefs,  whom  they  salute  with  the  title 
of  'master.'  " 

The  Camorrist,  in  addition  to  exploiting  women, 
still  levies  toll  on  boatmen,  waiters,  cab-drivers,  fruit- 
sellers,  and  porters,  and,  under  guise  of  protecting 
the  householder  from  the  Camorrists,  extorts  each 
week  small  sums  from  the  ordinary  citizen.  The  mean- 
est work  of  these  "mean  thieves"  is  the  robbing  of  emi- 
grants about  to  embark,  from  whom  they  steal  clothing 
and  money  and  even  the  pitiful  little  packages  of  food 
they  have  provided  for  the  voyage. 

A  grade  higher  (or  lower)  are  the  gangs  of  burglars 
or  thieves  whose  work  is  directed  and  planned,  and  the 
tools  and  means  for  which  are  furnished  by  a  padrone 

205 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

or  hasista.  These  will  also  do  a  job  of  stabbing  and 
face-slashing  at  cut  rates  or  for  nothing  to  oblige  a  real 
friend  of  the  "Beautifully  Reformed  Society." 

More  elevated  in  the  social  scale  is  the  type  of  Pro- 
fessor Rapi  or  Signor  de  Marinis,  the  Camorrista 
elegante,  who  on  the  fringe  of  society  watches  his 
chance  to  blackmail  a  society  woman,  ''arrange"  vari- 
ous private  sexual  matters  for  some  nobleman,  or  cheat 
a  drunken  aristocrat  at  the  gaming-tables. 

Last,  there  is  the  traffic  in  the  elections,  which  has 
been  so  advantageous  to  the  government  in  the  not 
distant  past  that  its  ostentatious  attempts  to  drive  out 
the  Camorra,  made  in  response  to  public  demand,  have 
usually  been  half-hearted,  if  not  blatantly  insincere. 

Yet  the  traditions  of  the  Camorra  still  obtain,  and 
in  many  of  the  prisons  its  influence  is  supreme.  Wit- 
ness the  deadly  duel  between  twelve  Camorrists  and 
twelve  Mafiusi  in  1905  in  the  Pozzuoli  penitentiary,  in 
which  five  men  were  killed  and  the  remainder  had  to 
be  torn  apart  at  the  muzzles  of  the  infantry.  Witness 
also,  and  more  strikingly,  the  trial  and  execution  of 
Lubrano,  who,  confined  in  jail  with  other  Camorristi, 
betrayed  their  secrets.  In  formal  session  behind  prison 
walls,  the  ''brothers"  sentenced  him  to  death,  and  he 
was  stabbed  by  a  picciotto,  who  was  thereupon  "raised" 
to  the  highest  grade  of  the  society. 

The  Camorrists  still  turn  out  in  force  for  their  reli- 
gious holidays,  and  visit  Monte  Vergine  and  other 

206 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

shrines  in  gala  costume,  accompanied  by  their  women. 
Drunken  rioting,  debauchery,  and  knifings  mark  the 
devotions  of  this  most  religious  sect.  But  they  are  a 
shoddy  lot  compared  to  the  *'bravos"  of  the  last  cen- 
tury. At  best,  they  are  a  lot  of  cheap  crooks — "pikers" 
compared  to  a  first-class  cracksman — pimps,  sharpers, 
petty  thieves,  and  dealers  in  depravity,  living  off  the 
proceeds  of  women  and  by  the  blackmail  of  the  igno- 
rant and  credulous. 

It  would  be  ridiculous  to  deny  that  the  Camorra 
exists  in  Naples,  but  it  ^70uld  be  equally  absurd  to  claim 
that  it  has  the  picturesqueness  or  virility  of  ancient 
times.  Yet  it  is  dreaded  by  all — by  the  Contessa  in 
her  boudoir,  by  the  manager  of  the  great  trans-oceanic 
line,  by  the  ragazzo  on  the  street.  The  inquiry  of  the 
traveller  reveals  little  concerning  it.  One  will  be  confi- 
dently told  that  no  such  society  or  sect  any  longer 
exists,  and  with  equal  certainty  that  it  is  an  active 
organization  of  criminals  in  close  alliance  with  the 
government.  Then,  suddenly,  some  trifling  incident 
occurs  and  your  eyes  are  opened  to  the  truth,  at  first 
hardly  realized,  that  the  crust  of  modern  civilization 
is,  in  the  case  of  southern  Italy,  superimposed  upon 
conditions  of  life  no  more  enlightened  than  they  were 
a  thousand  years  ago,  and  that  hatred  and  distrust  of 
government,  ignorance,  bigotry,  and  poverty  make  it 
a  field  fertile  for  any  sort  of  superstition  or  belief, 
be  it  in  the  potency  of  the  pulverized  bones  of  young 

207 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

children  for  rheumatism,  the  efficacy  of  a  stuffed  dove 
sliding  down  a  wire  as  a  giver  of  fat  harvest,  or  the 
deadly  power  of  the  Camorra.  And  where  several  mil- 
lion people  believe  in  and  fear  the  Camorra,  if  for  no 
other  reason,  the  Camorra  or  something  akin  to  it  is 
bound  to  exist. 

Before  long  you  will  begin  to  find  out  things  for 
yourself.  You  may  have  your  watch  filched  from  your 
waistcoat  pocket,  and  you  may  perhaps  get  it  back 
through  the  agency  of  a  shabby  gentleman — introduced 
by  the  hotel  porter — ^who,  in  spite  of  his  rough  exterior 
and  threadbare  clothing,  proves  marvellously  skilful  in 
tracing  the  stolen  property — for  a  consideration. 

You  may  observe  that  sometimes,  when  you  take  a 
cab,  a  mysterious  stranger  will  spring  up  beside  the 
driver  and  accompany  you  to  your  destination.  This  is 
the  "collector"  for  the  Camorra — the  parasite  that  feeds 
on  every  petty  trade  and  occupation  in  the  city.  For 
the  boatman  shares  his  hire  with  a  man  who  loiters  on 
the  dock ;  the  porter  gives  up  a  soldo  or  two  on  every 
job;  and  the  beggar  divides  with  the  Camorra  the 
profit  from  la  misericordia.'^  Last  of  all,  you  may 
stumble  into  one  of  the  quarters  of  Naples  where  the 
keeping  of  the  order  is  practically  intrusted  to  the  Ca- 
morra; where  the  police  do  not  go,  save  in  squads; 
and  where  each  householder  or  dive-keeper  pays  a 
weekly  tax  to  the  society  for  its  supposed  "protection," 


*  Compassion. 

208 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

part  of  which  goes  higher  up — to  some  ''delegato"  or 
'^commissary"  of  the  "P.  S."  * 

Or  you  may  enter  into  the  Church  of  Santa  Maria 
del  Carmine  and  find  a  throng  of  evil- faced  men  and 
women  worshipping  at  the  shrines  and  calling  for  the 
benediction  of  the  Holy  Trinity  upon  their  criminal 
enterprises.  It  is  said  that  sometimes  they  hang  votive 
offerings  of  knives  and  daggers  upon  the  altars,  and 
religiously  give  Heaven  its  share  out  of  the  proceeds 
of  their  crimes,  much  as  some  of  our  own  kings  of 
finance  and  merchant  princes,  after  a  lifetime  of  fraud 
and  violation  of  law,  will  seek  to  salve  their  consciences 
and  buy  an  entrance  to  Paradise  by  founding  a  surgical 
hospital  or  endowing  a  chair  of  moral  philosophy.  But 
until,  by  chance,  you  meet  a  Camorrist  funeral,  you 
will  have  no  conception  of  the  real  horror  of  the  Ca- 
morra,  with  its  procession  of  human  parasites  with 
their  blinking  eyes,  their  shuffling  gait,  their  artificial 
sores  and  deformities,  all  crawling  from  their  holes  to 
shamble  in  the  trail  of  the  hearse  that  carries  a  famous 
hasista,  a  capo  paranze,  or  a  capo  in  testa  to  his  grave. 

It  is  undoubtedly  a  fact  that  ease  of  living,  which 
generates  indolence,  induces  moral  laxity,  and  a  society 
composed  in  part  of  a  hundred  thousand  homeless 
people,  so  poor  that  a  few  soldi  represent  a  feast  or  a 
festival,  who  sleep  in  alleys,  on  the  wharves,  in  the 
shrubbery  of  parks,  or  wherever  night  finds  them,  is 


*Publica  Securezsa,  or  Public  Safety — ^the  regular  police. 

209 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

a  fertile  recruiting  ground  for  criminals.  The  poverty 
of  the  scum  of  Naples  passes  conception.  Air  and  sky, 
climate  and  temperature,  combine  to  induce  a  vagabond- 
age which  inevitably  is  hostile  to  authority.  The  strong 
bully  the  weak;  the  man  tyrannizes  the  woman;  the 
padrone  easily  finds  a  ragged  crew  eager  to  do  his 
bidding  for  a  plate  of  macaroni  and  a  flask  of  unspeak- 
able wine ;  a  well-dressed  scoundrel  becomes  a  demi-god 
by  simple  virtue  of  his  clothes  and  paste-diamond  scarf- 
pin;  the  thief  that  successfully  evades  the  law  is  a  hero; 
and  the  crook  who  stands  in  with  the  police  is  a  poli- 
tician and  a  diplomat.  The  existence  of  the  Camorra 
in  its  broad  sense  turns,  not  on  the  vigor  of  the  gov- 
ernment or  the  honesty  of  the  local  functionaries,  so 
much  as  on  the  conditions  of  the  society  in  which  it  is 
to  be  found. 

Such  is  a  glimpse  of  the  Camorra,  past  and  present, 
which,  with  its  secret  relations  to  the  police,  its  terrors 
for  the  superstitious  and  timid,  its  attraction  for  the 
weak  and  evil-minded,  its  value  to  the  politicians,  its 
appeal  to  the  natural  hatred  of  the  southern  Italian 
for  law  and  government,  will  continue  so  long  as  social 
conditions  in  Naples  remain  the  same — until  reform 
displaces  indifference  and  incapacity,  and  education  * 
and  religion  effectively  unite  to  lift  the  Neapolitans  out 


*  The  Italian  Parliament  approved  in  June  last  a  bill  proposed 
by  the  government  authorizing,  the  establishment  of  6,000  schools, 
mainly  in  the  southern  provinces,  at  a  cost  of  250,000,000  lire 
($50,000,000.) 


210 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

of  the  stew  of  their  own  grease.  This  is  the  sociological 
key  to  the  Camorra,  for  camorra  means  nothing  but 
moral  delinquency,  and  moral  delinquency  is  always 
the  companion  of  ignorance,  superstition,  and  poverty. 
These  last  are  the  three  bad  angels  of  southern  Italy. 

For  the  reasons  previously  stated  it  is  not  surprising 
that  the  disclosures  of  1900  had  little  or  no  permanent 
effect  upon  the  criminal  activities  of  the  Camorra.  The 
Ring  and  the  politicians  had,  it  is  true,  received  a  severe 
shock,  but  the  minor  criminals  had  not  been  affected 
and  their  hold  on  the  population  remained  as  strong 
as  ever.  Soon  the  Camorrists  became  as  active  at  the 
elections,  and  the  authorities  as  complacent,  as  before, 
and  after  a  spasmodic  pretence  at  virtue  the  "Public 
Safety''  relapsed  into  its  old  relations  to  the  organi- 
zation.* 

The  leaders  of  the  new  "Beautifully  Reformed  Soci- 
ety" were  reported  to  be  Giovanni  Rapi,  a  suave  and 
well-educated  gambler,  the  Cashier  of  the  organization 
and  its  chief  adviser,  surnamed  "The  Professor"  for 
having  once  taught  modem  languages  in  the  public 
schools  at  one  and  the  same  time  a  member  of  both 
the  high  and  the  low  Camorra,  and  an  international 
blackleg;  Enrico  Alfano,  popularly  known  as  "Ericone," 
the  reorganizer  of  the  society  and  its  "Supreme  Head," 
the  boss  of  all  the  gangs,  a  fearless  manipulator  of 
elections,  a  Camorrist  of  the  new  order — of  the  revolver 


*  See  appendix. 

211 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

instead  of  the  knife,  the  confidant  of  his  godfather, 
Don  Giro  Vittozzi, — the  third  of  the  criminal  trium- 
virate, the  most  mediaeval  of  all  these  mediaeval  figures, 
and  the  Machiavelli  of  Naples. 

Known  as  the  "Guardian  Angel"  or  "Gonfessor"  of 
the  Gamorra,  this  priest  was  chaplain  of  the  Naples 
Cemetery,  and  as  such  was  accused  of  unsavory  deal- 
ings of  a  ghoulish  nature,*  but  he  exerted  wide  power 
and  influence,  had  the  ear  of  the  nobility  and  the  entree 
to  their  palaces,  and  even  claims  to  have  been  the  con- 
fessor of  the  late  King.  Once,  a  cabby,  not  recognizing 
Vittozzi,  overcharged  him.  The  ecclesiastic  protested, 
but  the  man  was  insistent.  At  length  the  priest  paid 
the  fare,  saying,  ''Remember  that  you  have  cheated  Don 
Giro  Vittozzi."  That  night  the  cabman  was  set  upon 
and  beaten  almost  beyond  recognition.  Next  day  he 
came  crawling  to  the  priest  and  craved  permission  to 
drive  him  for  nothing.  Many  such  stories  are  told  of 
Vittozzi. 

Besides  these  leaders,  there  were  a  score  of  lesser 
lights — de  Marinis,  the  "swell"  of  the  Gamorra,  a  mixer 
in  the  "smart  set,"  fond  of  horses  and  of  diamonds,  a 
go-between  for  the  politicians ;  Luigi  Arena,  the  scien- 
tific head  of  the  corps  of  burglars;  Luigi  Fucci,  the 
"dummy"  head  of  the  Gamorra ;  and  Gennaro  Guocolo, 
a  shrewd  "basista"  and  planner  of  burglarious  cam- 


*In  stolen  burial  shrouds  and  the  bones  of  children. 

212 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

paigns,  a  little  boss,  grown  arrogant  from  felonious 
success.  The  cast,  indeed,  is  too  long  for  recapitu- 
lation. 

These  met  and  planned  the  tricks  that  were  to  be 
turned,  assigned  each  "picciotto"  to  his  duty,  received 
and  apportioned  the  proceeds,  giving  a  due  share  to 
the  police,  and  perhaps  betraying  a  comrade  or  two 
for  good  measure — a  crowd  of  dirty  rascals,  at  whose 
activities  the  authorities  connived  more  or  less  openly 
imtil  the  dual  murder  that  forced  the  Italian  govern- 
ment to  recognize  the  gravity  of  the  conditions  existing 
in  the  criminal  world  of  Naples. 

Then,  in  the  twilight  of  the  early  morning  of  June 
6,  1906,  two  cartmen  found  the  body  of  Cuocolo,  the 
"hasista"  covered  with  stab-wounds  by  a  roadside  on 
the  slope  of  Vesuvius.  At  almost  the  same  moment 
in  the  Via  Nardones,  in  Naples,  in  a  house  directly 
opposite  the  Commissariat  of  Public  Safety,  the  police 
discovered  his  wife,  Maria  Cutinelli  Cuocolo,  stabbed 
to  death  in  her  bed.  Both  were  well-known  Camorrists, 
and  the  crime  bore  every  indication  of  being  a  "ven- 
detta." The  first  inquiries  and  formalities  were  con- 
ducted quite  correctly.  The  police  arrived  on  the  spot 
and  reported.  The  magistrate  came  more  deliberately, 
but  in  due  course.  The  two  places  where  the  crimes 
had  occurred  were  duly  examined,  the  two  autopsies 
made,  and  a  few  witnesses  heard.    So  far,  everything 

213 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

had  gone  on  just  as  it  might  have  in  New  York  or 
Boston. 

But  then  the  Camorra  got  busy  and  things  began  to 
go  differently.  Meantime,  however,  the  police  had 
received  an  anonymous  letter,  in  which  the  writer 
alleged  that  upon  the  night  of  the  murder  (June  5)  a 
certain  dinner  party  had  taken  place  at  an  inn  known 
as  "Mimi  a  Mare"  at  Cupra  Calastro  in  the  commune 
of  Torre  del  Greco,  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the 
scene  of  the  homicide,  at  which  the  guests  present  were 
Enrico  Alfano,  Giro  Alfano,  his  brother,  Gennaro 
'  Ibello,  Giovanni  Rapi,  and  another.  While  they  were 
drinking  wine  and  singing,  a  man  suddenly  entered — 
Mariano  de  Gennaro — and  made  a  sign  to  Alfano, 
who  pledged  the  visitor  in  a  glass  of  "Marsala"  and 
cried,  "All  is  well.  We  will  meet  to-morrow."  This 
the  police  easily  verified,  and  the  diners  were  thereupon 
all  arrested  and  charged  with  being  accomplices  in  the 
murder,  simply  because  it  appeared  that  they  had  been 
near  by.  There  was  no  other  evidence.  Perhaps  the 
wise  police  thought  that  if  arrested  these  criminals 
would  confess.  At  any  rate,  the  merry-makers  were  all 
locked  up  and  Magistrate  Romano  of  Naples  began  an 
investigation.  At  this  juncture  of  the  drama  entered 
Don  Giro  Vittozzi,  girded  in  his  priestly  robes,  a  "Holy 
Man,"  in  the  odor  of  sanctity. 

He  hastened,  not  to  the  magistrate  having  the  case 
in  charge,  but  to  another,  and  induced  him  to  begin 

214 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

an  independent  investigation.  He  swore  by  his  priestly 
office  that  his  godson,  Giro  Alfano,  was  innocent  as 
well  as  the  others.  He  whispered  the  names  of  the  real 
murderers — two  ex-convicts,  Tommaso  De  Angelis  and 
Gaetano  Amodeo — and  told  where  the  evidence  of  their 
guilt  could  be  obtained.  He  produced  a  witness,  Gia- 
como  Ascrittore,  who  had  overheard  them  confessing 
their  guilt  and  the  motive  for  the  murder — revenge  be- 
cause Cuocolo  had  cheated  them  out  of  the  proceeds  of 
still  another  homicide.  A  police  spy,  Antonio  Parlati, 
and  Delagato  Ippolito,  a  Commissary  of  Police,  gave 
their  active  assistance  to  the  crafty  priest.  The  pris- 
oners were  released,  while  in  their  stead  De  Angelis  and 
Amodeo  were  thrown  into  jail. 

Then  the  storm  broke.  The  decent  men  of  Naples, 
the  Socialists,  the  honest  public  of  Italy,  with  one 
voice,  demanded  that  an  end  should  be  put  to  these 
things — and  the  Camorra.  The  cry,  taken  up  by  the  un- 
bought  press,  swept  from  the  Gulf  of  Genoa  to  the 
Adriatic  and  to  the  Straits  of  Messina.  The  ears  of 
the  bureaucracy  burned.  Even  Giolitti,  the  prime  min- 
ister, listened.  The  government  put  its  ear  to  the  ground 
and  heard  the  rumble  of  a  political  earthquake.  They 
are  shrewd,  these  Italian  politicians.  Instantly  a  bulle- 
tin was  issued  that  the  government  had  determined  to 
exterminate  the  Camorra  once  and  for  all  time.  The 
honest  and  eager  King  found  support  ready  to  his  hand 
and  sent  for  the  General  commanding  the  Carabinieri 

215 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

and  intrusted  the  matter  to  him  personally.  The  Gen- 
eral at  once  ordered  Captain  Carlo  Fabbroni  to  go  to 
Naples  and  see  what  could  be  done.  Fabbroni  went, 
summoning  first  Erminio  Capezzuti  and  Giuseppi  Far- 
ris,  non-commissioned  officers  of  the  rank  of  Maresci- 
allo,*  sleuths  of  no  mean  order.  In  two  months  Capez- 
zuti had  ensnared  Gennaro  Abattemaggio,  a  petty  thief 
and  blackmailer  and  an  insignificant  member  of  the 
Camorra,  and  induced  him  to  turn  informer  against  the 
society,  and  the  house  of  Ascrittore  was  searched  and 
a  draft  of  what  it  was  planned  that  he  should  testify 
to  upon  the  charges  against  De  Angelis  and  Amodeo 
was  discovered  written  in  the  hand  of  Ippolito,  the 
Delegato  of  Police!  Thereupon  the  spy,  Parlati,  and 
Ascrittore  were  both  arrested  and  thrown  into  prison 
on  the  charge  of  calumny.  Vittozzi,  the  priest,  was 
arrested  for  blackmail,  and  his  residence  was  rummaged 
with  the  result  that  quantities  of  obscene  photographs 
and  pictures  were  discovered  among  the  holy  man's 
effects!  Abattemaggio  made  a  full  confession  and 
testified  that  the  five  diners  at  "Mimi  a  Mare" — ^the 
first  arrested — had  planned  the  murders  and  were 
awaiting  at  the  inn  to  hear  the  good  news  of  their 
accomplishment. 

According  to  his  testimony,  Cuocolo  and  his  wife 
had  been  doomed  to  death  by  the  central  Council  of  the 


*  About  equivalent  to  our  "quartermaster-sergeant. 

2l6 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

Camorra  for  treachery  to  the  society  and  its  decrees. 
Cuocolo,  ostensibly  a  dealer  in  antiquities,  was  known 
to  have  for  many  years  planned  and  organized  the  more 
important  burglaries  executed  by  his  inferiors.  Owing 
to  his  acquaintance  with  many  wealthy  persons  and  aris- 
tocrats he  was  able  to  furnish  plans  of  their  homes  and 
the  information  necessary  successfully  to  carry  out 
his  criminal  schemes.  In  course  of  time  he  married 
Marie  Cutinelli,  a  woman  of  doubtful  reputation, 
known  as  'Ta  Bella  Sorrentina."  She,  for  her  part, 
purchased  immunity  for  Cuocolo  by  her  relations  with 
certain  police  officials,  and  her  house  became  the  scene 
of  Camorrist  debauchery.  Thus,  gradually,  Cuocolo  in 
turn  affiliated  himself  with  the  police  as  a  spy,  and,  to 
secure  himself,  occasionally  betrayed  an  inferior  mem- 
ber of  the  society.  He  also  grew  arrogant,  defied  the 
mandates  of  the  heads  of  the  society  and  cheated  his 
fellows  out  of  their  share  of  the  booty.  For  these 
and  various  other  offences  he  was  doomed  to  death 
by  the  Camorrist  tribunal  of  high  justice,  at  a  meeting 
held  upon  May  26,  1906,  and  presided  over  by  Enrico 
Alfano.  He  and  his  wife — who  otherwise  would  have 
betrayed  the  assassins  to  the  police — ^were  thereupon 
stabbed  to  death,  as  related  above,  on  the  night  of 
June  5,  1906,  by  divers  members  of  the  Camorra.  The 
adventures  of  Capezzuti,  who,  to  accomplish  his  ends, 
became  a  companion  of  the  canaille  of  Naples,  form  a 
thrilling  narrative.    For   our  present  purposes   it   is 

217 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

enough  to  say  that  in  due  course  he  formed  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Abattemaggio,  visited  him  in  prison,  and 
secured  from  him  a  Hst  of  the  Camorrists  and  full 
information  relative  to  the  inner  officers  and  workings 
of  the  organization. 

Meanwhile  Enrico  Alfano  having  been  released  from 
custody  had  for  a  while  lived  in  Naples  in  his  usual 
haunts,  but,  on  learning  that  the  Carabinieri  had  been 
ordered  to  take  a  hand  in  investigating  the  situation, 
he  had  gone  first  into  hiding  at  Afragola,  a  village 
near  Naples,  and  had  afterward  fled  to  New  York, 
where  he  had  been  arrested  later  in  the  year  by  Detective 
Petrosino  and  sent  back  to  Havre,  while  Italian  police 
officers  were  on  their  way  to  America  to  take  him  back 
to  Naples.  Luckily,  the  French  government  was  noti- 
fied in  time,  so  that  he  was  turned  over  to  the  Italian 
government  instead  of  being  set  at  liberty,  and  was 
delivered  to  the  Carabinieri  in  June,  1907,  at  Bar- 
donacchia,  on  the  frontier,  together  with  fourteen  other 
criminals  who  were  being  expelled  from  French  terri- 
tory. Then  Capezzuti,  armed  with  the  confession  of 
Abattemaggio,  made  a  clean  sweep  of  all  the  Camor- 
rists against  whom  any  evidence  could  be  obtained  and 
conducted  wholesale  raids  upon  their  homes  and  hiding 
places,  with  the  result  that  Rapi  and  the  others  were 
all  arrested  over  again. 

During  the  next  four  years  the  Carabinieri  found 

218 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

themselves  blocked  at  every  turn  owing  to  the  machina- 
tions of  the  Camorra.  Abattemaggio  made  several  inde- 
pendent confessions,  and  many  false  and  fruitless  leads 
had  to  be  run  down.  The  police  (''Public  Safety") 
were  secretly  hostile  to  the  Carabinieri  and  hindered 
instead  of  helped  them.  Indeed,  they  assisted  actively 
in  the  defence  of  the  Camorra.  Important  documents 
were  purloined.  Evidence  disappeared.  Divers  magis- 
trates carried  on  separate  investigations,  kept  the  evi- 
dence to  themselves,  and  connived  at  the  misconduct 
of  the  police.  The  Delagato  Ippolito  and  his  officers 
were  tried  upon  the  denunciation  of  Captain  Fabbroni, 
and  were  all  acquitted,  for  the  Carabinieri  were  not 
called  as  witnesses,  and  the  public  prosecutor  who 
had  asked  for  a  three-year  jail  sentence  did  not  even 
appeal  the  case!  Each  side  charged  the  other  with 
incompetence  and  corruption  and — nothing  happened. 
The  defendants,  numbering  thirty-six  in  all,  were 
finally  brought  to  trial  at  the  Assize  Court  at  Viterbo, 
forty  miles  from  Rome,  in  the  spring  of  191 1,  and  at 
the  present  time  "^  the  proceedings  are  still  going  on. 
The  case  is,  in  fact,  one  of  the  most  sensational  on 
record  and  the  newspapers  of  the  civilized  world  have 
vied  with  one  another  in  keeping  it  in  the  public  eye 
during  the  year  or  more  that  has  elapsed  since  the 
jury  were  empannelled,  but  there  is  no  direct  evidence 


*  May,  1912. 

219 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

as  to  the  perpetrators  of  the  homicides,  and,  unfor- 
tunately, unless  the  jury  find  that  some  of  the  Camor- 
risti  in  the  cage  actually  planned  and  executed  the 
murder  of  the  Cuocolos,  the  consequences  to  the  de- 
fendants will  not  be  serious,  as  mere  "association  for 
delinquency"  with  which  most  of  them  are  charged  is 
punishable  with  a  shorter  term  of  imprisonment  than 
that  which  will  have  been  suffered  by  the  accused 
before  the  conclusion  of  their  trial.  Under  Article  40 
of  the  Italian  Penal  Code,  the  defendants  get  credit 
for  this  period,  so  that  in  most  instances  a  verdict  of 
guilty  at  Viterbo  would  be  followed  by  the  immediate 
discharge  of  the  prisoners.*  This  is  the  case  with 
Rapi — although  the  evidence  has  brought  out  a  new 
offence  for  which  he  may  still  be  prosecuted.  And,  as 
blackmail,  for  which  that  astounding  rascal,  Don  Giro 
Vittozzi,  is  being  tried,  is  punishable  with  but  three 
to  five  years'  imprisonment,  "that  Holy  Man,"  as  he  is 
termed  by  Alfano,  will  probably  never  be  compelled 
to  retire  to  a  governmental  cloister. 

But  whatever  the  result  of  the  trial,  it  is  quite  un- 
likely that  the  prosecution  will  have  any  lasting  effect 
upon  the  Camorra,  for  while  this  cage  full  of  petty 
criminals  has  engaged  and  is  engaging  the  entire  re- 
sources of  the  Italian  government  a  thousand  or  so 
others  have  come  into  being,  and  an  equal  number 


♦Ten  or  more  have  been  liberated  already  on  this  ground. 

220 


THE  CAMORRA  IN  ITALY 

have  grown  to  manhood  and  as  picciotti  have  filled  the 
places  temporarily  left  vacant  by  their  incarcerated  su- 
periors. Nay,  it  is  even  probable  that  the  public  ex- 
ploitation of  the  activities  of  the  society  will  give  it  a 
new  standing  and  an  increased  fascination  for  the  unem- 
ployed youth  of  Naples. 


221 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

It  is  not  unnatural  that  a  young,  enthusiastic,  and 
self-confident  people  should  regard  with  condescen- 
sion, if  not  contempt,  the  institutions  of  foreign,  if 
older,  societies.  Americans  very  generally  suffer  from 
the  illusion  that  liberty  was  not  discovered  prior  to 
1776,  and  that  their  country  enjoys  a  monopoly  of  it. 
Even  experienced  and  conservative  editorial  writers 
sometimes  unconsciously  fall  victims  to  the  provincial 
trait  of  decrying  methods,  procedures,  and  systems 
simply  because  they  are  not  our  own.  Without,  the 
writer  believes,  a  single  exception,  the  newspapers  of 
the  United  States  have  indulged  in  torrents  of  bitter 
criticism  at  the  manner  in  which  the  trial  of  the  Ca- 
morra  prisoners  at  Viterbo  is  being  conducted,  and 
have  commonly  compared  the  court  itself  to  a  "bear 
garden,"  a  "circus,"  or  a  "cage  of  monkeys."  Wher- 
ever the  matter  has  been  the  subject  of  discussion  or 
comment,  the  tone  has  been  always  the  same,  with 
the  implied,  if  unexpressed,  suggestion  that  if  the  prose- 
cution were  being  conducted  here  the  world  would  see 
how  quickly  and  effectively  we  would  dispose  of  the 
case — and  this  with  the  memory  of  the  Thaw  and  Pat- 

222 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

terson  trials  fresh  in  our  minds.  The  following  edi- 
torial from  the  New  York  Times,  printed  in  March 
of  this  year,  is  by  no  means  extreme  as  compared  with 
the  views  expressed  in  other  newspapers,  and  seems 
to  indicate  the  popular  impression  of  the  manner  in 
which  this  trial  is  being  carried  on : 

Our  own  methods  of  criminal  procedure  have  long  been  the 
object  of  severe  and  just  criticism,  and  in  our  exaggerated 
and  insincere  fear  of  convicting  the  innocent  we  have  made 
the  conviction  of  the  guilty  always  difficult  and  often  impos- 
sible. Quite  unknown  in  our  criminal  courts,  however,  and 
fortunately,  are  such  strange  scenes  as  are  presented  daily 
at  the  trial    of  the  Camorrists  now  going  on  in  Italy. 

There  the  law  is  so  little  confident  of  its  own  powers  that 
the  accused  are  herded  together  in  one  steel  cage,  apparently 
with  the  idea  of  preventing  attempts  at  rescue  by  a  public 
largely  sympathetic  with  organized  robbery  and  assassination, 
while  the  witness  for  the  prosecution  is  secluded  in  another 
cage,  lest  he  be  torn  to  pieces  by  the  prisoners  or  their  friends. 
The  pleadings  on  each  side  seem  to  consist  largely  of  denun- 
ciations and  threats  aimed  at  the  other,  tears  of  rage  alternate 
with  shrieks  of  the  same  origin,  and  order  is  only  occasionally 
restored,  when  the  din  rises  too  high,  by  the  curiously  gentle 
expedient  of  suspending  the  session  of  the  court. 

How  justice  is  to  be  the  outcome  of  proceedings  such  as 
these,  and  thus  conducted,  may  be  comprehensible  to  what  is 
called — with  little  reason — ^the  Latin  mind,  but  others  are 
lost  in  amazement.  It  is  all  highly  interesting,  no  doubt,  but 
one  is  no  more  likely  to  regret  that  we  do  not  carry  on  our 
trials  in  this  way  than  he  is  to  be  sorry  that  our  criminals 
are  not  such  important  and  powerful  persons  as  the  members 
of  the  Camorra  seem  to  be. 

Only  one  fact  stands  out  clearly  at  Viterbo — ^the  fact  that 
the  attack  on  the  banded  brigands  has  been  so  long  delayed 
that  the  authority  of  the  law  can  not  now  be  vindicated  with- 
out producing  a  sort  of  civil  war.  Which  ought  to  be  humili- 
ating for  somebody. 

223 


THE  BUTLER^S  STORY 

Only  one  conclusion  could  have  been  reached  by 
the  half  million  readers  of  this  particular  editorial,  and 
that — ^the  immense  superiority  of  our  own  legal  pro- 
cedure and  method  of  handling  criminal  business  over 
those  of  Italy. 

Yet  (to  examine  the  statements  in  this  editorial 
seriatim)  it  is  not  true  that  scenes  similar  to  those  en- 
acted at  Viterbo  are  unknown  in  our  criminal  courts; 
that  the  lack  of  confidence  of  the  authorities  in  their 
own  power  is  the  cause  of  the  prisoners  being  confined 
in  court  in  a  steel  cage ;  that  the  public  is  "largely  sym- 
pathetic with  organized  robbery  and  assassination"; 
and  that  tears  and  shrieks  of  rage  alternate  to  create 
a  pandemonium  which  can  be  stilled  only  by  adjourning 
court;  and,  while  there  is  enough  justification  in  fact 
to  give  color  to  such  an  editorial,  the  only  extenuation 
for  its  exaggeration  and  the  false  impression  it  creates 
lies  in  the  charitable  view  that  the  writer  had  an  equally 
blind  confidence  in  the  sincerity  of  his  resident  Italian 
correspondent  and  in  the  latter's  cabled  accounts  of 
what  was  going  on. 

Unfortunately,  the  reporters  at  Viterbo  have  sent 
in  only  the  most  sensational  accounts  of  the  proceed- 
ings, since,  unless  their  "stuff"  is  good  copy,  the  ex- 
pense of  collecting  and  cabling  European  news  deprives 
it  of  a  market.  The  press  men  at  Viterbo  have  given 
the  American  editors  just  what  they  wanted.    Such 

224 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

opportunities  occur  only  once  or  twice  in  a  lifetime, 
and  they  have  fully  availed  themselves  of  it. 

Then,  to  the  false  and  exaggerated  cable  of  the  cor- 
respondent the  ''write-up  man"  lends  his  imagination; 
significant  and  important  facts  are  omitted  altogether, 
and  the  public  is  led  to  believe  that  an  Italian  criminal 
trial  consists  of  a  yelling  bandit  in  a  straitjacket,  with 
a  hysterical  judge  and  frenzied  lawyer  abusing  each 
other's  character  and  ancestry. 

Let  the  writer  state,  at  the  outset,  that  he  has  never 
in  his  legal  experience  seen  a  judge  presiding  with 
greater  courtesy,  patience,  fairness,  or  ability,  or  keep- 
ing, as  a  general  rule,  under  all  the  circumstances,  so 
perfect  a  control  over  his  court,  as  the  president  of  the 
assize  in  which  the  prosecution  of  the  Camorra  is 
being  conducted ;  nor  is  he  familiar  with  any  legal  pro- 
cedure better  fitted  to  ascertain  the  truth  of  the  charges 
being  tried. 

In  studying  the  Camorra  trial  at  Viterbo,  or  any 
other  Italian  or  French  criminal  proceeding,  the  reader 
must  bear  in  mind  that  there  is  a  fundamental  distinc- 
tion between  them  and  our  own,  and  that  there  are  two 
great  and  theoretically  entirely  different  systems  of 
criminal  procedure,  one  of  which  is  the  offspring  of 
the  Imperial  Roman  law  and  the  other  entirely  Anglo- 
Saxon.  One  is  the  Roman  or  inquisitorial  system,  and 
the  other  the  English  or  controversial.  Under  the  for- 
mer the  officers  of  the  state  are  charged  with  the  duty 

225 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

of  ferreting  out  and  punishing  crime  wherever  found, 
and  the  means  placed  at  their  disposal  are  those  likely 
to  be  most  effective  for  the  purpose.  The  theory  of  the 
latter  is  that,  to  some  extent  at  least,  a  criminal  trial  is 
the  result  of  a  dispute  between  two  persons,  one  the 
accuser  and  the  other  the  accused,  and  that  the  proceed- 
ing savors  of  a  private  law-suit.  Now,  it  is  obvious 
that,  in  principle  at  least,  the  two  systems  differ  mate- 
rially. In  the  one,  the  only  thing  originally  considered 
was  the  best  way  to  find  out  whether  a  criminal  were 
guilty  and  to  lock  him  up,  irrespective  of  whether  or 
not  any  private  individual  had  brought  an  accusation 
against  him.  In  the  other,  somebody  had  to  make  a 
complaint  and  **get  his  law"  by  going  after  it  himself 
to  a  very  considerable  extent. 

The  history  of  the  development  of  these  diverse  theo- 
ries of  criminal  procedure  is  too  involved  to  be  dis- 
cussed here  at  any  length,  but  inasmuch  as  the  most 
natural  way  of  ascertaining  whether  or  not  a  person  has 
been  guilty  of  a  crime  is  to  question  him  about  it,  the 
leading  feature  of  the  Continental  system  is  the  "ques- 
tion," or  inquisitorial  nature  of  the  proceedings,  where- 
by the  police  authorities,  who  are  burdened  with  the 
discovery  and  prosecution  of  crime,  initiate  the  whole 
matter  and  bring  the  defendant  and  their  witnesses 
before  an  examining  magistrate  in  the  first  instance. 
The  procureur  (district  attorney)  in  France  and  the 
procuratore  del  re  in  Italy  represent  the  government  and 

226 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

are  part  of  the  magistracy.  They  are  actually  quasi- 
judicial  in  their  character,  and  their  powers  are  infi- 
nitely greater  than  those  of  our  own  prosecutors,  who 
occupy  a  rather  anomalous  position,  akin  in  some  ways 
to  that  of  a  procureur,  and  at  the  same  time,  under  our 
controversial  practice,  acting  as  partisan  attorneys  for 
the  people  or  the  complainant. 

The  fundamental  proposition  under  the  inquisitorial 
system  is  that  the  proceeding  is  the  government's  busi- 
ness, to  be  conducted  by  its  officers  by  means  of  such 
investigations  and  interrogations  as  will  most  likely 
get  at  the  truth.  Obviously,  the  quickest  and  surest 
means  of  determining  the  guilt  of  a  defendant  is  to  put 
him  through  an  exhaustive  examination  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible after  the  crime,  under  such  surroundings  that, 
while  his  rights  will  be  safeguarded,  the  information 
at  his  disposal  will  be  elicited  for  the  benefit  of  the 
public.  The  fact  that  in  the  past  the  Spanish  Inquisition 
made  use  of  the  rack  and  wheel,  or  that  to-day  the 
"third  degree"  is  freely  availed  of  by  the  American 
police,  argues  nothing  against  the  desirability  of  a 
public  oral  examination  of  a  defendant  in  a  criminal 
case.  If  he  be  given,  under  our  law,  the  right  to  testify, 
why  should  he  be  privileged  to  remain  silent? 

The  Anglo-Saxon  procedure,  growing  up  at  a  time 
when  death  was  the  punishment  for  almost  every  sort 
of  offence,  and  when  torture  was  freely  used  to  extort 
confessions  of  guilt,  developed  an  extraordinary  ten- 

227 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

derness  for  accused  persons,  which  has  to-day  been  so 
refined  and  extended  by  legislation  in  America  that 
there  is  a  strong  feeling  among  lawyers  (including  ex- 
President  Taft)  that  there  is  much  in  our  practice 
which  has  outlived  its  usefulness,  and  that  some  ele- 
ments of  Latin  procedure,  including  the  compulsory 
interrogation  of  defendants  in  criminal  cases,  have  a 
good  deal  to  recommend  them. 

A  French  or  Italian  criminal  trial,  therefore,  must 
be  approached  with  the  full  understanding  that  it  is  a 
governmental  investigation,  free  from  many  of  the 
rules  of  evidence  which  Bentham  said  made  the  Eng- 
lish procedure  ^'admirably  adapted  to  the  exclusion  of 
the  truth."  The  judge  is  charged  with  the  duty  of 
conducting  the  case.  He  does  all  the  questioning.  There 
is  no  such  thing  as  cross-examination  at  all  in  our 
sense,  that  is  to  say,  a  partisan  examination  to  show 
that  the  witness  is  a  liar.  The  judge  is  there  for  the 
purpose  of  determining  that  question  so  far  as  he  can, 
and  the  jury  are  not  compelled  to  listen  to  days  of 
monotonous  interrogation  during  which  the  witness  is 
obliged  to  repeat  the  same  evidence  over  and  over 
again,  and  testify  as  to  the  most  minute  details,  under 
the  dawdling  of  lawyers  paid  by  the  day,  who  not  only 
"take  time,  but  trespass  upon  eternity." 

Such  a  trial  is  conducted  very  much  as  if  the  judge 
were  a  private  individual  who  had  discovered  that  one 
of  his  employees  had  been  guilty  of  a  theft  and  was 

228 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

trying  to  ascertain  the  identity  of  the  guilty  party. 
Practically  anything  tending  to  shed  light  upon  the 
matter  is  acceptable  as  evidence,  and  the  suspected  per- 
son is  regarded  as  the  most  important  witness  that 
can  be  procured.  Finally,  and  in  natural  course,  comes 
the  confronting  of  accuser  and  accused. 

Then  fellow-servant  on  the  one  hand,  or  formal 
accuser  upon  the  other,  steps  forward,  and  they  go 
at  it  **hammer  and  tongs,"  revealing  to  their  master,  the 
public,  or  the  jury,  the  very  bottom  of  their  souls ;  for 
no  man,  least  of  all  an  Italian,  can  engage  an  antagonist 
in  debate  over  the  question  of  his  own  guilt  without 
disclosing  exactly  what  manner  of  man  he  is. 

With  these  preliminary  considerations  upon  the 
fundamental  distinction  between  the  Latin  and  the 
Anglo-Saxon  criminal  procedure,  and  without  dis- 
cussing which  theory,  on  general  principles,  is  best 
calculated  to  arrive  at  a  definite  and  effective  con- 
clusion as  to  the  guilt  of  an  accused,  let  us  enter  the 
ancient  Church  of  San  Francesco  at  Viterbo,  and 
listen  for  l  moment  to  the  trial  of  the  thirty-six 
members  of  the  Neapolitan  Camorra. 

It  is  a  cool  spring  morning,  and  the  small  crowd 
which  daily  gathers  to  watch  the  arrival  of  the  prison- 
ers in  their  black-covered  wagons  has  dispersed;  the 
guard  of  infantry  has  marched  back  to  the  Rocca, 
once  the  castle  of  the  popes  and  now  a  barracks; 
and  only  a  couple  of  carabinieri  stand  before  the  door, 

.229 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

their  white-gloved  hands  clasped  before  their  belts. 
Inside,  in  the  extreme  rear  of  the  church,  you  find 
yourself  in  a  small  inclosure  seating  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred people,  and  a  foot  or  so  lower  than  the  level  of 
the  rest  of  the  building.  This  is  full  of  visitors  from 
Rome,  wives  of  lawyers,  townspeople,  and  a  scatter- 
ing of  English  and  American  motorists.  A  rail  sep- 
arates this — the  only  provision  for  spectators — from 
the  real  court.  (At  the  Thaw  and  Patterson  trials 
the  guests  of  the  participants  and  officials  swarmed 
all  over  the  court-room,  around  and  beside  the  jury- 
box,  inside  the  rail  at  which  the  prisoners  were  seated, 
and  occasionally  even  shared  the  dais  with  the  judge.) 
We  will  assume  that  the  proceedings  have  not  yet 
begun,  and  that  the  advocates  in  their  black  gowns 
are  chatting  among  themselves  or  conferring  with 
their  clients  through  the  bars  of  the  cage,  which  is 
built  into  the  right-hand  side  of  the  church  and  com- 
pletely fills  it.  This  cage,  by  the  way,  is  an  absolute 
necessity  where  large  numbers  of  prisoners  are  tried 
together.  The  custom  of  isolating  the  defendant  in 
some  such  fashion  is  not  peculiar  to  Italy,  but  is  in 
use  in  our  own  country  as  well;  and  if  one  attends  z 
criminal  trial  in  the  city  of  Boston  he  will  see  the 
accused  elevated  in  a  kind  of  temporary  cell  in  the 
middle  of  the  court-room,  and  looking  as  if  he  were 
suspended  in  a  sort  of  human  bird-cage.  Where,  as 
in  most  jurisdictions  of  the  United  States,  every  de- 

230 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

fendant  can  demand  a  separate  trial  as  of  right  (which 
he  almost  inevitably  does  demand),  no  inconvenience 
is  to  be  anticipated  from  allowing  him  his  temporary 
freedom  while  in  the  court-room  in  the  custody  of 
an  officer.  But  there  are  many  cases,  where  three 
or  more  defendants  are  tried  together,  when,  even 
in  New  York  City,  there  is  considerable  danger  that 
the  prisoners  may  seek  the  opportunity  to  carry  out 
a  vendetta  against  the  witnesses  or  to  revenge  them- 
selves upon  judge  or  prosecutor.  There  is  much  to 
be  said  in  favor  of  isolating  defendants  in  some  such 
way,  particularly  where  they  are  on  trial  for  atro- 
cious crimes  or  are  likely  to  prove  insane.  The  Ca- 
morrists  at  Viterbo  have  already  been  incarcerated 
for  over  four  years — one  of  them  died  in  prison — 
and  were  they  accessible  in  the  court-room  to  their 
relatives  or  criminal  associates  and  could  thus  pro- 
cure fire-arms  or  knives,  there  is  no  prophesying  what 
the  result  might  be  to  themselves  or  others.  Certain 
it  is  that  the  chief  witness,  the  informer  Abbate- 
maggio,  would  have  met  a  speedy  death  before  any 
of  his  testimony  had  been  given. 

On  the  opposite  or  left  side  of  the  church,  in  an 
elevated  box,  sit  the  jury,  who  keep  their  hats  on 
throughtout  the  proceedings.  They  are  respectable- 
looking  citizens,  rather  more  prepossessing  than  one 
of  our  own  petit  juries  and  slightly  less  so  than  twelve 
men  drawn  from  one  of  the  New  York  City  special 

231 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

panels.  At  the  end  or  apex  of  the  church  is  a  curved 
bench  or  dais  with  five  seats.  In  the  middle,  under 
the  dome,  are  four  rows  of  desks,  with  chairs,  at 
which  sit  the  advocates,  one  or  more  for  each 
prisoner.  The  only  gallery,  which  is  above  and 
behind  the  jury-box,  is  given  over  to  the  press.  At 
all  the  doors  and  the  ends  of  the  aisles,  at  each  side 
of  the  judges'  dais,  and  in  front  of  the  prisoners* 
cage  stand  carabinieri,  in  their  picturesque  uniforms 
and  cocked  hats  with  red  and  blue  cockades,  and  a 
captain  of  carabinieri  stands  beside  each  witness  as 
he  gives  his  testimony.  Thus  the  court,  which  is  in 
the  form  of  a  cross,  is  naturally  divided  into  four 
parts  and  a  centre :  in  front  the  spectators,  on  the 
right  the  prisoners,  on  the  left  the  jury,  between 
them  the  lawyers,  and  at  the  end  the  judges  and 
officers  of  the  assize.  A  mellow  light  filters  down 
from  above,  rather  trying  to  the  eyes. 

The  Camorrists,  heavily  shackled,  are  brought  in 
from  a  side  entrance,  each  in  custody  of  two  carabi- 
nieri, their  chains  are  removed,  the  prisoners  are 
thrust  behind  the  bars,  and  the  guards  step  to  one 
side  and  remain  crowded  around  and  behind  the  cage 
during  the  session.  In  a  separate  steel  cage  sits  Ab- 
batemaggio,  the  informer,  at  an  oblique  distance  of 
about  five  feet  from  the  other  prisoners.  A  guard 
stands  between  the  two  cages.  If  one  meets  a  file  of 
these  prisoners  in  one  of  the  corridors,  he  will  be  sur- 

232 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

prised,  and  perhaps  embarrassed,  to  find  that  each, 
as  he  approaches,  will  raise  his  shackled  hands  to  his 
head,  remove  his  hat,  and  bow  courteously,  with  a 
"Buon  giorno"  or  ''Buoim  sera/'  While  this  may  be 
one  of  the  universal  customs  of  a  polite  country,  one 
cannot  help  feeling  that  it  is  partly  due  to  an  instinc- 
tive desire  of  the  accused  for  recognition  as  human 
beings.  All  are  scrupulously  clean  and  dressed  in  the 
heights  of  Italian  fashion.  In  fact,  the  Camorrists 
are  much  the  best-dressed  persons  in  the  court-room, 
and  the  judicial  officials,  when  off  duty  and  in  fustian, 
look  a  shade  shabby  by  contrast.  The  funds  of  the 
Camorrists  seem  adequate  both  for  obtaining  wit- 
nesses and  retaining  lawyers;  and  the  difference  be- 
tween one's  mental  pictures  of  a  lot  of  Neapolitan 
thieves  and  cutthroats  and  the  apotheosized  defend- 
ants on  trial  is  at  first  somewhat  startling.  Looking 
at  them  across  the  court-room,  they  give  the  impres- 
sion of  being  exceptionally  intelligent  atid  smartly 
dressed  men — not  unlike  a  section  of  the  grandstand 
taken  haphazard  at  a  National  League  game.  Closer 
scrutiny  reveals  the  merciless  lines  in  most  of  the 
faces,  and  the  catlike  shiftiness  of  the  eyes. 

As  for  the  lawyers, — the  avvocati, — they  seem  very 
much  like  any  group  of  American  civil  lawyers  and 
distinctly  superior  to  the  practitioners  in  our  criminal 
courts.  Many  are  young  and  hope  to  win  their 
spurs  in  this  celebrated  case.     Others  are  old  war- 

233 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

horses  whose  fortunes  are  tied  up  with  those  of  the 
Camorra.  At  least  one  such,  Awocato  Lioy,  is  of 
necessity  giving  his  services  for  nothing.  But  it  is 
when  the  awocato  rises  to  address  the  court  that  the 
distinction  between  him  and  his  American  brother  be- 
comes obvious;  for  he  is  an  expert  speaker,  trained 
in  diction,  enunciation,  and  deUvery,  and  rarely  in 
our  own  country  (save  on  the  stage  or  in  the  pulpit) 
will  one  hear  such  uniform  fluency  and  eloquence. 
Nor  is  the  speech  of  the  advocate  less  convincing  for 
its  excellence,  for  these  young  men  put  a  fire  and 
zeal  into  what  they  say  that  compel  attention. 

Now,  if  the  prisoners  are  all  seated,  the  captain  of 
carabinieri  raps  upon  the  floor  with  his  scabbard,  and 
the  occupants  of  the  room,  prisoners,  advocates,  jury, 
and  spectators,  rise  as  the  president,  vice-president, 
prosecutor,  vice-prosecutor,  and  cancelliere  enter  in 
their  robes.  The  president  makes  a  bow,  the  others 
bow  a  little,  the  lawyers  bow,  and  everybody  sits 
down — that  is  to  say,  everybody  who  has  arisen;  for 
Don  Giro  Vittozzi  and  "Professor"  Rapi,  who  sit 
outside  and  in  front  of  the  cage  (the  "professor"  has 
already  been  confined  longer  than  any  term  to  which 
he  could  be  sentenced,  and  both  have  pleaded  sick- 
ness as  an  excuse  for  leniency),  make  a  point  of  show- 
ing their  superiority  to  the  vulgar  herd  by  waiting 
until  the  last  moment  and  then  giving  a  partial  but 
ineffectual  motion  as  if  to  stand. 

234 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

The  five  men  upon  the  dais  are,  however,  worthy 
of  considerable  attention.  The  president,  who  oc- 
cupies the  centre  seat,  is  a  stout,  heavily  built,  "stocky" 
man  with  a  brownish-gray  beard.  In  his  robes  he 
is  an  imposing  and  dignified  figure,  in  spite  of  his 
lack  of  height.  All  wear  gowns  with  red  and  gold 
braid  and  tassels,  and  little  round  caps  with  red  ''top- 
knots'* and  gold  bands.  This  last  ornament  is  omit- 
ted from  the  uniform  of  the  cancelliere,  who  is  the 
official  scribe  or  recorder  of  the  court.  And  just 
here  is  noticeable  a  feature  which  tends  to  accelerate 
the  proceedings,  for  there  are  no  shorthand  minutes 
of  the  testimony,  and  only  a  rough  digest  of  what  goes 
on  is  made.  This  is,  for  the  most  part,  dictated  by 
the  president,  under  the  correction  of  the  advocates 
and  the  officers  of  the  court,  who  courteously  interrupt 
if  the  record  appears  to  them  inaccurate.  If  they 
raise  no  objection  the  record  stands  as  given.  Thus 
thousands  of  pages  of  generally  useless  matter  are  done 
away  with,  and  the  record  remains  more  like  the 
"notes"  of  a  careful  and  painstaking  English  judge. 
Any  particular  bit  of  testimony  or  the  gist  of  it  can 
usually  be  found  very  quickly,  without  (as  in  our  own 
courts  of  law)  the  stenographer  having  to  wade 
through  hundreds  of  pages  of  questions  and  answers 
before  the  matter  wanted  can  be  unearthed,  buried, 
like  as  not,  under  an  avalanche  of  objections,  excep- 

235 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

tions,  wrangles  of  counsel,  and  irrelevant  or  "stricken 
out"  testimony. 

At  the  left  of  the  semicircle  sits  the  acting  pro- 
curatore  del  re — another  small  man  who,  on  the  bench, 
makes  a  wonderfully  dignified  impression.  He  plays 
almost  as  important  a  part  in  the  proceedings  as  the 
president  himself,  and  is  treated  with  almost  equal 
consideration.  This  is  Cavaliere  Santaro,  one  of  the 
most  learned  and  eloquent  lawyers  in  Italy.  To  hear 
him  argue  a  point  in  his  crisp,  clean-cut,  melodious 
voice  is  to  realize  how  far  superior  Italian  public 
speaking  is  to  the  kind  of  oratory  prevalent  in  our 
courts,  and  national  legislature,  and  on  most  public 
occasions  throughout  the  United  States.  Beside  both 
the  president  and  the  procuratore  del  re  sits  a  "vice," 
or  assistant,  to  each,  to  take  his  place  when  absent 
and  to  act  as  associate  at  other  times.  The  cancelliere 
occupies  the  seat  upon  the  right  nearest  the  prisoners' 
cage. 

The  president  having  taken  his  place,  the  first  order 
of  the  day  is  the  reading  or  revision  of  all  or  part 
of  the  record  of  the  preceding  session.  This  is  done 
by  the  cancelliere  who,  from  time  to  time,  is  inter- 
rupted by  the  lawyers,  Abbatemagglo,  or  the  prison- 
ers. These  interruptions  are  usually  to  the  point,  and 
are  quickly  disposed  of  by  the  judge,  although  he 
may  allow  an  argument  thereon  at  some  length  from 
one  of  the  advocates.     The  court  then  proceeds  with 

236 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

the  introduction  of  evidence,  documentary  or  other- 
wise, the  examination  of  the  witnesses,  or  the  con- 
fronting of  the  prisoners  with  their  accusers.  Now 
is  immediately  observable  for  the  first  time  the  char- 
acteristic of  Italian  criminal  procedure  •which  has  been 
so  much  misrepresented  and  has  been  the  cause  of  such 
adverse  criticism  in  the  United  States  and  England — 
namely,  the  constant  interruption  of  the  proceedings 
by  argument  or  comment  from  the  lawyers,  and  by 
remarks  and  contradictions  from  the  prisoners  and 
witnesses.  These  occasionally  degenerate  into  alter- 
cations of  a  more  or  less  personal  nature;  but  they 
are  generally  stilled  at  a  single  word  of  caution  from 
the  judge,  and  serve  to  bring  out  and  accentuate  the 
different  points  at  issue  and  to  make  clear  the  position 
of  the  different  parties.  When  such  interruptions  oc- 
cur, the  proceedings  ordinarily  resemble  a  joint  dis- 
cussion going  on  among  a  fairly  large  gathering  of 
people  presided  over  by  r.  skilful  moderator. 

A  witness  is  testifying.  In  the  middle  of  it  (and 
"it"  consists  of  not  only  what  the  witness  has  seen, 
but  what  he  has  been  told  and  believes)  one  of  the 
prisoners  rises  and  cries  out : 

"That  is  not  so!  He  is  a  liar!  Abbatemaggio 
swore  thus  and  so." 

"Nothing  of  the  kind!"  retorts  the  witness  im- 
patiently. 

"Yes!  Yes!"  or  "No!  No!"  chime  in  the  advocates. 
237 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

"Excellency!  Excellency!"  exclaims  Abbatemaggio 
himself,  jumping  to  his  feet  in  his  cage.  'T  said  in 
my  testimony  that  Cuocolo  did  accuse  Erricone,"  etc. 
And  he  goes  on  for  two  or  three  minutes,  explaining 
just  what  he  did  or  did  not  say  or  mean,  while  the 
president  listens  until  he  has  had  sufficient  enlighten- 
ment, and  stops  him  with  a  sharp  "Basta!'* 
("Enough!"). 

The  incident  (whatever  its  nature)  usually  tends 
to  elucidate  the  matter,  and  while  to  an  outsider,  es- 
pecially one  not  familiar  with  Italian  dialects,  the 
effect  may  be  one  of  temporary  confusion,  it  is  never- 
theless not  as  disorderly  as  it  seems,  and  the  president 
rarely  (so  far  as  the  writer  could  see  during  many 
days  of  observation)  loses  complete  command  of  his 
court,  or  permits  any  one  to  go  on  talking  unless  for 
a  clear  and  useful  purpose.  At  times,  when  every- 
body seemed  to  be  talking  at  once,  and  several  law- 
yers, Abbatemaggio,  and  one  or  two  prisoners  were 
on  their  feet  together,  his  handling  of  the  situation 
was  little  short  of  marvellous,  for  he  would  almost 
simultaneously  silence  one  with  a  sharp  "S-s-s!" 
shake  his  head  at  another,  direct  a  third  to  sit  down, 
and  listen  to  a  fourth  until  he  stilled  him  with  a  well- 
directed  ^'Basta!"  When  the  shouting  is  over,  one 
usually  finds  that  who  is  the  liar  has  been  pretty  clearly 
demonstrated. 

In  this  connection,  however,  it  should  be  said  that 

238 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

the  writer  was  perhaps  fortunate  (or  unfortunate,  as 
the  reader  may  prefer)  in  not  being  present  on  those 
days  when  the  scenes  of  greatest  excitement  and  con- 
fusion occurred.  Several  times,  it  is  true,  President 
Bianchi  has  preferred  to  adjourn  court  entirely  on 
account  of  the  uproar,  rather  than  take  extreme 
measures  against  individual  defendants  or  witnesses. 
Thus,  during  the  entire  conduct  of  the  case  and  in  spite 
of  the  grossest  provocation,  he  has  ordered  the  forcible 
removal  of  only  three  defendants — that  of  Morro  on 
June  21,  191 1,  and  of  Alfano  and  Abbatemaggio  on 
July  21,  191 1.  On  several  other  occasions  he  has 
adopted  the  more  gentle  expedient  of  adjourning  the 
proceedings  and  clearing  the  court,  and  this  has  re- 
sulted in  a  certain  amount  of  criticism  from  the  Italian 
bar,  which  otherwise  regards  his  presiding  as  a  model 
of  efficiency.  The  only  adverse  comment  that  the 
writer  has  heard  in  Italy,  either  of  the  president  or  the 
pro  curat  ore  del  re,  is  that  both  are  somewhat  lenient 
toward  the  conduct  of  the  prisoners  and  their  advo- 
cates, and  lack  strength  in  dealing  with  exigencies 
of  the  character  just  described.  In  the  long  run,  how- 
ever, if  such  criticism  be  just,  such  an  attitude  is  bound 
to  be  in  favor  of  justice,  and  will  irresistibly  convince 
the  public  and  the  world  at  large  that  this  is  no  attempt 
on  the  part  of  the  government  to  "railroad"  a  lot  of 
suspected  undesirables  at  any  cost,  whatever  the 
evidence  may  be. 

239 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

Before  commenting  too  harshly  upon  this  mote  tn 
the  eye  of  Italian  procedure,  it  may  not  be  unwise  to 
consider  whether  any  similar  beam  exists  in  our  own. 
Certainly  there  is  a  deal  of  interruption,  contradic- 
tion, and  disputation  in  our  own  criminal  courts  which 
sometimes  is  not  only  undignified,  but  frequently  ends 
in  an  unseemly  dispute  between  judge  and  lawyers. 
Contempt  of  court  is  very  general  in  the  United  States, 
and  we  have  practically  no  means  for  punishing  it. 
Moreover,  these  scenes  in  our  own  courts  do  not  usually 
assist  in  getting  at  the  truth.  With  us,  once  a  witness 
has  spoken  and  his  testimony  has  become  a  matter  of 
record,  whether  he  has  said  what  he  meant  to  say  or 
not  (under  the  complicated  questions  put  in  examina- 
tion and  cross-examination),  or  whether  or  not  he 
has  succeeded  in  giving  an  accurate  impression  of  what 
he  saw  or  knows,  he  is  hustled  out  of  the  way  and 
made  to  keep  silence.  He  has  little,  if  any,  chance  to 
explain  or  annotate  his  testimony.  A  defendant  may 
go  to  jail  or  be  turned  loose  on  the  community  because 
the  witness  really  didn't  get  a  chance  to  tell  his  own 
story  in  his  own  way.  Now,  the  witness's  own  story 
in  precisely  his  own  way  is  just  what  they  are  looking 
for  under  the  inquisitorial  procedure,  and  if  he  is  mis- 
interpreted they  want  to  know  it.  The  process  may 
take  longer,  but  it  makes  for  getting  at  the  truth,  and 
the  Italians  regard  a  criminal  trial  as  of  even  more 
importance  than  do  some  of  our  judges,  who  often 

240 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

seem  more  anxious  to  get  through  a  record-breaking 
calendar  and  "dispose  of"  a  huge  batch  of  cases  than 
to  get  at  the  exact  facts  in  any  particular  one.  There  is 
nothing  "hit  or  miss"  about  the  Continental  method. 
Whatever  its  shortcomings,  whatever  its  limitations 
to  the  cold  Anglo-Saxon  mind,  it  brings  out  all  the 
details  and  the  witness's  reasons.  At  an  Italian  trial 
a  witness  might  testify  (and  his  evidence  be  consid- 
ered as  important)  that  he  heard  sounds  of  a  scuffle 
and  a  man's  voice  exclaim,  "You  have  stabbed  me, 
Adolfo!"  that  somebody  darted  across  the  street  and 
into  an  alley,  that  an  old  woman  whom  he  identifies 
in  court  as  the  deceased's  mother,  and  who  was 
standing  beside  him,  cried  out,  "That  is  my  son's 
voice!"  and  that  three  or  four  persons  came  running 
up  from  several  different  locations,  each  of  whom 
described,  circumstantially  and  independently,  a 
murder  which  he  had  seen  perpetrated,  identifying 
the  assassin  by  name. 

In  America  it  is  doubtful  whether  in  most  jurisdic- 
tions the  witness  would  be  permitted  to  testify  to 
anything  except  that  he  heard  a  scuffle,  saw  a  man 
rim  away,  and  that  an  old  woman  and  several  other 
people  thereupon  said  something. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  the  trial  of  the  Camorra 
is  being  conducted  with  the  calm  of  a  New  England 
Sabbath  service;  but  the  writer  wishes  to  emphasize 
the  fact  that  the  confusion,  such  as  it  is,  serves  a  cer- 

241 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

tain  purpose,  and  that  the  yellings  and  heartrending 
outcries  described  by  the  newspaper  correspondents 
are  only  occasional  and  much  exaggerated — except  in 
so  far  as  they  might  occur  at  an  Italian  trial  in  Amer- 
ica. Any  one  who  has  been  present  at  many  murder 
trials  in  New  York  knows  that  outbreaks  on  the  part 
of  Italian  prisoners  are  to  be  anticipated  and  are  fre- 
quent if  not  customary.  The  writer  recalls  more  than 
one  case  where  the  defendant  shrieked  and  rolled  on 
the  floor,  clutching  at  the  legs  of  tables,  chairs,  and 
officers,  until  dragged  by  main  force  from  the  court- 
room. And  at  Viterbo  they  are  trying  thirty-six 
Italians  at  the  same  time;  and  every  person  participat- 
ing in  or  connected  with  the  affair  is  an  Italian,  sharing 
in  the  excitability  and  emotional  temperament  of  his 
fellows. 

A  noteworthy  feature  of  this  particular  prosecution 
is  that  (due  doubtless  to  the  strength  and  ability  of 
the  presiding  judge),  in  spite  of  all  interruptions  and 
the  freedom  of  discussion,  the  taking  of  evidence  pro- 
ceeds with  a  rapidity  greater  than  in  America,  for  the 
reason  that  there  are  no  objections  or  exceptions,  or 
attendant  argument,  and,  above  all,  no  cross-examina- 
tion, except  such  questions  as  are  put  by  the  judge 
himself  at  the  request  of  the  advocates. 

Finally,  the  system  of  the  con fr onto,  or  confronting 
of  the  accused  by  his  accuser,  deserves  a  word  of  com- 
mendation, for  no  method  could  possibly  be  devised 

242 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

whereby  the  real  character  and  comparative  truthful- 
ness of  each  would  be  so  readily  disclosed.  The  de- 
fendant is  given  on  this  occasion  free  scope  to  cross- 
examine  the  witness  and  deny  or  refute  what  he  says, 
and  it  takes  ordinarily  but  a  few  minutes  before  the 
mask  is  torn  aside  and  each  pictures  himself  in  his  true 
colors.  Our  procedure  tends  to  deprive  the  witnesses 
of  personality  and  to  reduce  them  all  to  a  row  of 
preternaturally  solemn  and  formal  puppets.  It  is  prob- 
ably true  that  in  most  criminal  cases  in  America  the 
defendant  is  convicted  or  acquitted  without  the  jury 
having  any  very  clear  idea  of  what  sort  of  person  he 
really  is.  On  the  day  of  his  trial  the  prisoner  makes 
a  careful  toilet,  is  cleanly  shaved,  and  dons  a  new  suit 
of  clothes  and  fresh  linen.  The  chances  are  that,  as 
he  sits  at  the  bar  of  justice,  he  will  make  at  least  as 
good  and  very  possibly  a  more  favorable  impression 
upon  the  jury  than  the  witnesses  against  him,  who 
have  far  less  at  stake  than  he.  Each  takes  the  stand 
and  is  sworn  to  tell  the  truth,  so  far  as  they  will  be 
permitted  to  do  so  under  our  rules  of  evidence.  Then  the 
district  attorney  proceeds  to  try  to  extract  their  story 
of  the  crime  under  a  storm  of  objections,  exceptions, 
and  hasty  rulings  from  the  judge.  Then  the  prisoner's 
lawyer  (who  can  take  all  the  liberties  he  wants,  as  the 
State  has  no  appeal  in  case  of  an  acquittal)  proceeds 
to  mix  things  up  generally  by  an  unfair  and  confusing 
cross-examination.    At  last  the  defendant  is  called,  and 

243 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

marches  to  the  stand,  looking  like  an  early  Christian 
martyr.  He  is  carefully  interrogated  by  his  lawyer, 
who  permits  him  (if  he  be  wise)  to  do  nothing  but 
deny  the  salient  facts  against  him.  The  district  attor- 
ney, to  be  sure,  has  the  right  of  cross-examination,  but 
a  skilful  criminal  lawyer  has  plenty  of  opportunities 
to  **nurse"  his  client  along  and  guide  him  over  pit- 
falls; and  when  all  is  over  the  jury  have  formed  no 
valuable  or  accurate  impression  of  the  defendant's  real 
character  and  personality — whether  or  not,  in  other 
words,  he  is  the  kind  of  man  who  would  have  done 
such  a  thing. 

In  Italy  (to  use  vulgar  English)  they  "sic"  them 
at  each  other  and  let  them  fight  it  out,  and  while  the 
language  of  the  participants  is  often  not  parliamentary, 
the  knowledge  that  they  are  being  watched  by  the 
judge  and  jury  has  a  restraining  effect,  and  the  pres- 
ence of  the  carabinieri  makes  violence  no  more  likely 
than  in  our  own  courts.  Occasionally,  in  America, 
where  a  prisoner  insists  on  conducting  his  own  de- 
fence, a  similar  scene  may  be  witnessed — ^always,  it 
may  be  affirmed,  to  the  enlightenment  of  the  jury.  On 
the  other  hand,  most  confrontations  are  attended  with 
few  sensational  incidents  or  emotional  outbreaks. 

The  writer  was  fortunate  enough  to  be  present 
when  ^Trofessor"  Rapi  was  confronted  by  Gennaro 
Abbatemaggio,  and,  to  his  surprise,  found  that  the 
proceeding,  instead  of  being  interspersed  with  yells  of 

244 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

rage  and  vehement  invocations  to  Heaven,  closely  re- 
sembled a  somewhat  personal  argument  between  two 
highly  intelligent  and  deeply  interested  men  of  affairs. 
Whatever  may  be  Rapi's  real  character  (and  he  is  said 
to  supply  a  large  part  of  the  brains  of  the  Camorra, 
as  well  as  handling  all  its  funds),  he  is,  as  he  stands 
up  in  court,  a  fine-looking,  elegantly  dressed  man, 
of  polished  manners  and  speech.  If  the  evidence 
against  him  is  to  be  believed,  however,  his  mask  of 
gentility  covers  a  heart  of  mediaeval  cruelty  and  cun- 
ning, for  he  is  alleged  to  have  made  the  plans  and 
given  the  final  directions  to  Sortino  for  the  murder  of 
the  Cuocolos.  Rapi  is  a  celebrated  gambler,  and  as 
such  may  have  had  the  acquaintance  of  some  decadent 
members  of  the  Italian  aristocracy,  who  not  only  knew 
him  in  the  betting  ring  at  the  races,  but  frequented 
his  establishment  in  Naples,  which  he  called  the  ''South- 
em  Italy  Club."  In  1875,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  he 
won  against  four  hundred  candidates  the  position  of 
instructor  in  classical  languages  in  the  municipality 
of  Naples.  Some  ten  years  later,  in  1884,  he  moved 
with  his  parents  to  France.  At  this  time  he  was  sus- 
pected of  having  something  to  do  with  the  murder  of 
a  Camorrist  youth,  named  Giacomo  Pasquino,  who,  in 
fact,  was  killed  in  a  duel  with  a  fellow  member  of  the 
society. 

From  that  time  on  Rapi  became  a  professional  gam- 
bler, and  as  such  was  expelled  from  France  in  1902. 

245 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

Later  he  returned  to  Naples  and  opened  a  sort  of 
"Canfield's''  there.  At  any  rate,  he  boasts  that  it  was 
the  centre  of  attraction  for  dukes  and  princes.  That 
he  had  any  sort  of  acquaintance  with  or  admission  to 
aristocratic  circles  is  entirely  untrue;  but  he  certainly 
was  a  figure  in  the  fast  life  of  the  town,  and  used 
what  position  he  had  to  further  the  ends  of  the  Cam- 
orra.  It  is  alleged  that  he  was  the  actual  treasurer  of 
the  Camorra,  and  disbursed  the  funds  of  its  central 
organization,  apportioning  the  proceeds  of  robberies 
and  burglaries  among  the  participants,  and  acting  as 
head  receiver  for  all  stolen  goods.  Certainly  he  was 
a  friend  of  ''Erricone"  and  an  associate  of  well-known 
Camorrists,  and  he  was  one  of  the  five  arrested  imme- 
diately after  the  Cuocolo  murders  on  suspicion  of  com- 
plicity, because  of  his  known  presence  on  the  night  of 
the  crime  at  Torre  del  Greco,  not  far  from  the  place 
where  the  murder  of  Gennaro  Cuocolo  was  perpetrated. 
For  fifty- two  days  he  remained  in  prison,  and  was 
then  set  at  liberty  through  the  efforts  of  Father  Ciro 
Vittozzi.  He  continued  to  reside  in  Naples  until  April, 
1908,  when  the  French  decree  against  him  was  can- 
celled and  he  returned  to  Paris,  after  holding  a  sort  of 
informal  levee  at  the  Naples  railroad  station,  where 
many  persons  of  local  distinction,  journalists,  and 
others  came  to  see  him  off.  It  was  in  the  following 
June  that  he  says  he  read  in  a  Paris  paper  that  his 
departure  from  Naples  was  regarded  as  a  flight.    He 

246 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

wired  to  the  procuratore  del  re  at  Naples,  offering  to 
place  himself  absolutely  at  the  disposition  of  the 
authorities ;  but,  receiving  no  response,  he  returned  by 
train  to  Naples  to  present  himself  before  the  magis- 
trates. He  was  promptly  arrested  en  route,  and  for 
four  years  has  been  in  jail,  being  questioned  by  the 
authorities  on  only  three  occasions  during  that  period. 
He  claims  that  at  the  time  of  the  murder  he  was  living 
in  England,  and  his  elaborate  alibi  is  supported  by  a 
number  of  witnesses  whose  testimony  is  more  or  less 
relevant. 

Without  dilating  on  the  individual  history  of  this 
sleek  gentleman,  be  he  merely  gambler  or  full-edged 
accomplice  in  many  murders,  it  is  enough  to  say  that 
when  confronted  by  Abbatemaggio  he  conducted  him- 
self with  the  most  suave  and  courteous  moderation. 
Alternately  he  would  politely  engage  the  informer  in 
argument  or  ask  him  a  question  or  two,  and  then  in 
polished  sentences  would  address  the  jury  and  specta- 
tors. 

He  is  the  antithesis  of  Abbatemaggio,  who  has  an 
insolent  confidence  and  braggadocio  about  him  that 
carry  with  them  a  certain  first-hand  impression  of 
sincerity.  In  fact,  the  fiery  little  black-haired  coachman 
has  proved  so  convincing  to  the  public  that  the  Cam- 
orrists  have  been  driven  to  allege  that  he  is  mad.  He 
gives  no  indication  of  madness,  however,  although  the 
government,   to  refute  any   such  contention,   has  an 

247 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

alienist,  Professor  Otto  Lenghi,  in  court  to  keep  him 
under  constant  surveillance.  His  memory  is  astonish- 
ing and  uncannily  accurate.  His  mind  works  with 
marvellous  rapidity,  and  had  he  been  born  in  a  different 
environment  he  would  have  made  his  mark  in  almost 
any  line  that  he  might  have  chosen.  He  has  all  the 
instincts  and  tricks  of  the  actor,  is  a  master  of  repartee, 
extremely  witty,  with  a  tongue  like  a  razor,  and  de- 
lights the  spectators  with  his  sallies  and  impertinences. 
Altogether  Abbatemaggio  is  the  centre  of  attraction  at 
Viterbo — and  knows  it.  He  makes  the  court  wait  on 
his  health  and  convenience,  and  has  evidently  made 
up  his  mind  that,  if  his  Hfe  is  to  be  short,  he  will  at 
least  make  it  as  merry  as  possible.  Naturally  he  is  a 
sort  of  popular  idol,  and  a  confronto  in  which  he  is 
one  of  the  participants  draws  a  crowd  of  the  towns- 
people, who  applaud  his  gibes  and  epigrams  and  jeer 
at  his  Camorrist  opponent. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  Rapi- Abbatemaggio  con- 
fronto the  ^'Professor"  arose  with  great  dignity, 
bowed  low  to  the  court  and  jury,  folded  his  hands 
over  his  stomach,  and  faced  the  audience  with  an  air 
of  patient  resignation.  Then  the  captain  of  carabi- 
nieri  unlocked  Abbatemaggio's  cage,  and  the  little 
coachman  sprang  to  his  feet,  gave  a  twirl  to  his  mous- 
tache and  a  contemptuous  glance  at  Rapi  as  if  to  say, 
"Look  at  the  old  faker!  See  how  I  shall  show  him 
up!" 

248 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

With  an  attitude  respectful  toward  the  court  and 
scornful  toward  Rapi,  he  takes  his  stand  by  the  pro- 
curatore  del  re  and  awaits  his  antagonist's  attack.  The 
"Professor"  accosts  him  gently,  almost  pathetically. 
Abbatemaggio  answers  in  cold,  unsympathetic  tones 
that  tell  the  spectators  that  they  must  not  be  deceived 
by  the  oily  address  of  this  arch-conspirator.  But  Rapi, 
with  his  magnificent  voice,  is  a  foe  to  be  reckoned 
with,  and  presently  he  enters  upon  a  denunciation  of 
the  informer  that  is  distinctly  eloquent  and  full  of 
vehement  sarcasm.  Abbatemaggio  flushes  and  inter- 
rupts him,  the  "Professor"  attempts  to  proceed,  but 
the  little  coachman  sweeps  him  out  of  the  way  and 
pours  forth  a  rapid-fire  volley  of  Neapolitan  dialect  in 
which  he  accuses  Rapi  of  being  a  hypocrite  and  a  liar 
and  a  man  who  lives  on  the  criminality  of  others,  re- 
ferring specifically  to  various  enterprises  in  which  they 
have  both  been  engaged  as  partners.  He  pauses  for 
breath,  and  Rapi  plunges  in,  contradicting,  denouncing, 
and  accusing  in  turn.  The  prisoners  by  inter jectory 
exclamations  show  their  approval. 

"Sh-sh-sh!"  remarks  il  presidente,  raising  a  finger. 

"Excellency!  Excellency!"  exclaims  Abbatemaggio 
deprecatingly,  as  if  pained  that  the  judge  should  be 
compelled  to  listen  to  such  an  outburst. 

Presently  he  can  restrain  himself  no  longer,  and 
both  he  and  Rapi  begin  simultaneously  to  harangue  the 
court,  until  the  president  orders  Abbatemaggio  to  stop 

249 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

and  the  captain  of  carabinieri  touches  Rapi  on  the 
shoulder.  The  latter  is  now  reduced  to  tears  and 
wrings  his  hands  as  he  calls  his  aged  mother  to  witness 
that  he  is  an  innocent  man!  Soon  order  is  restored, 
and  the  confronto  concludes  with  a  sort  of  summing 
up  of  his  defence  on  the  part  of  the  "Professor."  It 
is  a  model  of  rhetoric,  rather  too  carefully  calculated 
to  appear  as  sincere  as  his  previous  outbursts.  He 
calls  down  the  curses  of  God  upon  Abbatemaggio, 
who  listens  contemptuously;  he  protests  the  purity  of 
his  life  and  motives;  he  weeps  at  the  irony  of  fate  that 
keeps  him — the  merest  object  of  suspicion — confined 
in  a  loathsome  prison.  Then  he  bows  and  resumes  his 
seat  by  the  side  of  Father  Giro  VittozzI,  to  whom,  amid 
the  laughter  of  the  spectators,  he  has  referred  as  "that 
holy  man  there."  And,  apart  from  the  argument  be- 
tween him  and  Abbatemaggio,  there  has  really  been  no 
more  denunciation,  nor  more  emotion,  nor  more  tears, 
than  if  an  ordinary  criminal  attorney  in  a  New  York 
Gity  court  were  summing  up  an  important  case. 

Gourt  adjourns.  No  sooner  has  the  judge  departed 
than  an  outcry  is  heard  from  the  cage. 

"I  am  tired — tired — tired!"  exclaims  an  agonized 
voice.  "I  have  been  in  prison  for  five  years !  Every- 
body else  talks  and  I  have  to  listen.  I  am  not  allowed 
to  speak,  and  nothing  ever  happens!  It  is  intermin- 
able!   I  cannot  stand  it!" 

It  is  "Erricone"  having  one  of  his  periodical  mo- 

250 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

merits  of  relief.  After  all,  one  is  not  inclined  to  blame 
him  very  much,  for  there  is  a  good  deal  of  truth  in 
what  he  says — owing  to  the  way  the  case  was  bungled 
in  its  earlier  stages.  The  carabinieri  rush  up,  "Erri- 
cone"  is  pacified  by  his  fellow  Camorrists,  and  quiet 
is  restored.  One  inquires  if  there  is  generally  any 
more  excitement  than  has  just  occurred,  and  is  told 
that  it  has  been  quite  a  sensational  day,  but  then — 
that  ''Erricone"  is  always  "yelling."  A  good  many 
defendants  make  a  noise  and  carry  on — ^and  so  do  their 
relatives — after  court  has  adjourned,  in  America. 

One  is  in  doubt  whether  to  believe  Abbatemaggio 
on  the  one  hand  or  Rapi  on  the  other,  and  ends  by  con- 
cluding that  it  would  be  utterly  impossible  to  believe 
either.  Both  were  acting,  both  playing  to  the  gallery. 
You  know  Rapi  is  a  crook,  and — well  you  wouldn't 
trust  Abbatemaggio,  either,  around  the  corner.  And, 
after  all,  it  is  the  word  of  the  one  against  that  of  the 
other  so  far  as  any  particular  defendant  is  concerned. 
But  one  fixed  impression  remains — that  of  the  aplomb, 
intelligence,  and  cleverness  of  these  men,  and  the 
danger  to  a  society  in  which  they  and  their  associates 
follow  crime  as  a  profession.  Once  more  you  study 
the  faces  of  the  well-dressed  prisoners  in  the  cage,  of 
the  four  alleged  assassins  of  Cuocolo— Morra,  Sortino, 
de  Gennaro,  and  Cerrato;  of  Giuseppe  Salvi,  the  mur- 
derer of  Maria  Cutinelli;  of  Luigi  Fucci,  the  dummy 
head    of    the    Camorra    of    "Erricone"    Alfano,    the 

251 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

wolfish  supreme  chief  and  dictator  of  the  society;  of 
Luigi  Arena,  the  captain  of  the  Neapolitan  burglars; 
of  that  mediaeval  rascal,  "Father"  Giro  Vittozzi,  the 
most  picturesque  figure  of  the  lot';  of  Desiderio,  head 
of  petty  blackmailing  and  tribute-levying  industry;  of 
Maria  Stendardo,  whose  house  was  a  Camorrist  hell; 
and  of  Rapi,  the  gambling  "professor"  and  "Moriarty" 
of  Naples — and  you  know  instinctively  that,  whether 
as  an  abstract  proposition  Abbatemaggio  conveys  an 
impression  of  absolute  honesty  or  not,  what  he  has 
said  is  true  and  that  this  is  the  Camorra — the  real 
Camorra,  vile,  heartless,  treacherous! 

Then,  if  you  were  asked  to  give  your  impressions 
of  the  way  the  trial  was  being  carried  on,  you  would 
probably  say  that,  considering  the  magnitude  of  the 
task  involved,  the  mass  of  evidence  (there  are  forty 
volumes  of  the  preliminary  examinations),  the  great 
number  of  prisoners  and  the  multitude  of  witnesses, 
and  the  latitude  allowed  under  the  Italian  law  in  the 
matter  of  taking  testimony,  the  trial  was  being  con- 
ducted considerably  faster  than  would  be  probable  In 
America  under  like  conditions;  that  the  methods  fol- 
lowed are  admirably  calculated  to  ascertain  the  truth 
or  falsity  of  the  charges ;  that  the  judge  presides  with 
extreme  fairness,  courtesy,  and  ability ;  that,  all  things 
considered,  there  is,  as  a  rule,  less  confusion  or  dis- 
order than  would  be  naturally  expected — that,  in  a 

252 


AN  AMERICAN  LAWYER  AT  VITERBO 

word,  the  Italian  government  is  making  a  good  job 
of  it,  and  deserves  to  be  congratulated. 

Indeed,  so  far  as  the  procedure  is  concerned,  it  is 
not  so  very  diffierent  from  our  own,  and,  were  it  not 
for  the  presence  of  the  uniforms  of  the  carabinieri 
and  the  officers  of  infantry  in  the  court-room,  and  the 
huge  cage  in  which  the  prisoners  are  confined,  one 
could  easily  imagine  one's  self  in  a  court  in  America. 
The  conduct  of  the  trial  is  far  more  free,  far  less 
formal,  than  with  us — a  fact  which,  the  writer  believes, 
makes  in  the  end  for  effectiveness,  although  the  excita- 
bility of  the  Italian  temperament  occasionally  creates 
something  of  an  uproar,  which  calls  for  a  suspension 
of  proceedings.  Doubtless  the  prisoners  give  vent  to 
cries  of  rage  and  humiliation;  perhaps  one  or  two  of 
them  in  the  course  of  the  trial  may  faint  or  have  fits 
(such  things  happen  with  us)  ;  the  judge  and  lawyers 
may  squabble,  and  accuser  and  accused  roundly  curse 
3ach  other.  Such  things  could  hardly  help  occurring 
in  a  trial  lasting,  perhaps,  a  year.  In  fact,  deaths  and 
births  have  occurred  among  them  during  this  period, 
for  Giro  Alfano  has  passed  away  and  Maria  Stendardo 
has  given  birth  to  a  child;  but,  on  the  whole,  there  is 
probably  no  more  excitement,  no  more  confusion,  no 
more  bombast,  and  vastly  less  sensationalism  than  if 
thirty-six  members  of  the  Black  Hand  were  being  tried 
en  masse  in  one  of  our  own  criminal  courts  for  a  double 

253 


THE  BUTLER'S  STORY 

murder,  involving  the  existence  of  a  criminal  society 
whose  ramifications  extended  into  the  national  legisla- 
ture and  whose  affiliations  embraced  the  leaders  of  a 
local  political  organization  and  many  officials  and 
members  of  the  New  York  police. 


254 


FOURTEEN  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


4^1^35°-  • 

< 

'3g^L2  8  rJao  lU 

T  r»  01    1  nn-yy,  0  'nn                                         General  Library 
(^Blll;22)r76'  ''                                  Universjy^of^California 

YB  ^9922 


ivi89172 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


